


The Savage and The Cursed

by Tantio



Series: A Fox of the Wild and A Bunny of the Fae [1]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: AU Zootopia, Blood blood blood and death, Cursed, Double meaning, Drama, F/M, Fantasy, Magic, Other, Red Cloth Trick, Sweetwood and Wolfsbane, Torture, fae, lots of fire, savage - Freeform, vengeance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 15:53:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11740275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tantio/pseuds/Tantio
Summary: Nick is a mage of the province torn between sadness and anger, caused by the vermin, who mock him with the moniker Savage.Judy is a fae unable to leave her woods, meeting a fox who cuts down trees, who she can only see, she might as well be Cursed.They could break each other's chains with the bond they share, now if only they would figure out that they work better together and they will need it if they want to find out, who is really causing all the havoc in the provinces of Zootopia, for the misery stems from a long forgotten memory.





	The Savage and The Cursed

**Author's Note:**

> First order of business, I don't own Zootopia, Disney does
> 
> Second this story is very AU, don't be surprised to not encountering certain characters, or them not acting like in the movie, you have been warned.
> 
> Third this story will be very heavy, or at least in my opinion bloody, gory, downright painful at times, so don't go crying that something bad happens. I know Nick will seem to go down a checklist of pretty much everything and trust me, it is pretty much exactly that, I got a piece of paper with all of them on it, so be ready for more painful and more enjoyable flashbacks. I made this concept based on my own random mind, with the keyword vengeance, it got toned down when I figured out Judy's part in it and still I cringe at times. 
> 
> I have written stories before, but this is the first time writing down anything fan fiction related and I tend to be more a poet at heart. I started typing this chapter at the start of July and you can thank two people for me doing that. Dave who enjoyed listening to my four concepts that I had for Zootopia since April, which led to me thinking them out more, also Dave if you read this, surprise it is a Zootopia fanfic. And Cabbaj, you know who he is, love his stories. On his show of interest, I decided to finally started to type out this chapter. Hope you enjoy the stay.  
> p.s. I'm pretty bad in , and . usage, so please forgive me.

He should have know, these words go to through the head of a red fox laying on his knees, his woven trousers tread upon long grass. Paws tied together with what seemed to be vines, sturdy enough to not be able to get free of them, yet flexible enough to not make the bound joints ache.

The green eyed tod looking at a smoking part of the forest edge, fire had raged here not so long ago, where once stood a majestic tree now stood a decimated charcoaled stump with blackened woodcutting blades sticking out of it. Some handles were broken and while others were smoked black, they didn't go through the same thing as the trees in the area, as if the flames seem to not have taken any interest in them. That or they are persistent is staying strong and enduring, as to not give the flames a footing to grasp. Near the same tree was still somewhat smoldering campfire, multiple objects seemed to have been thrown into it, as bits and pieces of fabric, fibers, glass shards and rations are sticking out between the ash, sooth and carved wooden totem remains. The only completely unburned visible thing was a red cloth, which lays on the grass near him.

Three canine like wood guards stood towering around the kneeled mammal, staring down at him not in a demeaning way, but in an all knowing look about what judgment might be heading towards this auburn pelted tod. He didn't have to look very far however for a pair of judging eyes though, as  two Lavender colored ones looked down at him with a mixture of disappointment and hurt.

The day had started well, heck it had been relatively nice for a few years now, besides that one thing two weeks ago, but knowing his life, knowing what has been going on since his kithood, he should have known better.

* * *

 

The wind rustles trough heart shaped leafs of a big tree standing in an unfenced garden, blue- and strawberries growing in some soil patches around it, with a soft touch of purple colored flowers. A gentle shade cast on two foxes sitting beneath it, a kit looks with a focused stare at his mom, who is busy prepping materials to make a new mage coat for his dad. If he pays enough attention he might be able to make one himself when he gets older, he loves the coats, especially the ones with the long backsides and the emblem of their house his father wears, all colored green like the tree he sits under, in comparison al he wears are green shirts, brown trousers and maybe for the occasion his vest with a small emblem. The house emblem in question is very simple in design, a big runic tree on top of a hill, with a fox kneeling in front of it face down towards the viewer, with one paw holding a small orb before its torso.

Not long ago he asked for something different, maybe something blue or black, mom responded with making him a green floral shirt, green was the main color of their family, so the green would always stay. And if it had been any other Nick he might have loved the floral shirt, till he could wear it no longer, but this kit couldn't find a fast enough way to get rid of it, because who would ever want a floral shirt, when you had seen those mage coats. Now he just hoped that his mom wouldn't have a run in with the mammal he gave it to.

Anna Clover Wilde in her own made floral green dress, stares with her amber eyes at her son and sees his excitement, a smile crosses her face, "Hey, my little berry, care to enchant these fibers for me? It would make the coat last longer and you know how wild and  busy our red rock can be," she lets out a giggle, as she says this.

The kit pouts, "I'm not a little berry, I'm at least a young tree with ten and a half branches," before his mom can say anything, he continues, "I know that half a branch doesn't really work, so maybe ten branches and a wooden swing," a smirk crosses his face as he says this in a way one would barter for a better price.

Anna lets out a sniffle shaking her head, "Okay little tree," and says teasingly, "so you don't want to practice some basic casting? You seemed to be always eager to do so before."

The eyes of Nick go wide open, ears tucked to the back of his head, "I... Off course I want to practice, I want to be as great as dad is," says the kit all too eagerly, he knows mom is just trying to ease his worries, by having him do what he loves, helping others and learning stuff about the workings of everything, be it magic or not.

"I'm pretty sure you could even be a red mountain, if you try your hardest," says Anna with soft smile, while passing the fibers. The smile grows, when she sees his flustered face. "You already have read most of the books in our library, big red even tells me you seem to eat tomes for breakfast," she holds in a giggle as she sees her son go a few shades redder.

It was true that Nick read almost all of them and that being passionate about reading made him go through the thick pages, like a fox goes through their favorite berries. "I... I can't say everything word for word to you though," says the kit still flustered, amber eyes stare with disbelief, again his snout rambles on before a response can come, "I mean, it is true, that I can tell what it is about, how it works, or what must happen, I just still don't understand certain words and concepts though." It was more the fact that the kit didn't agree with stuff, mostly certain laws and regulations, just seemed to be unfair mostly towards mages. The punishments felt too severe for what happened, almost like getting a finger cut off for accidently sneezing on some noble. And while a seller of knifes couldn't be prosecuted for having had one of his wares used for murder by another mammal, a mage could, if in a similar scenario, when said item or object was enchanted or created with the use of magic. He could circumvent it yes, but the way wasn't feasible for a non blessed mage. Fae on the other paw, used enchanted tools all the time, but were exempted from the rule. And if fae didn't get punished for this, why should they?

The kit puts one paw into his right pocket, grabbing something small and smooth. With his left paw he starts to grab the fiber, wondering how it must feel and how it needs to be. No words spoken only intent flowing through the kit's mind focused into the fiber, some kind of chill running from his right paw to his left. Wanting to practice some multi tasking while casting would be fun, but not wanting to ruin his dad's coat, he keeps his gaze firmly on the fiber at paw, while slowly thinking about a response on the other thing his mom said.

"And a mountain, mom?" Nick says in a feint tone, like he was being mocked, "I mean, do you expect me to be able to cast a spell on an entire province? We don't even have the best foci for our species and it is not like we can just go buy one." He knows Anna didn't mean it like that, but wanting to make it downright silly he ads on, "I know dad is tall and broad, but do you expect me to grow eight feet, with fur runes and an aura that makes others' mammals skin crawl?" He got that image from the last page of a quite an old and worn book, tucked away behind a shelf, it was something about legends and old folklore. The words of that peculiar chapter had been unreadable, mostly covered in some kind of purple dust and ink like the words and drawings were dotted down with.

Nick looks at his handy work and is pleased with the fibers feeling stronger, while also softer and more defined. The intent had seeped into the very being of the fiber quite nicely and giving off an invisible glow that it wouldn't go away without a fight. As he passes the enchanted fibers back at her, he can see a visible amused raised eyebrow.

Silly would be answered with silly, while looking over the handiwork of her son, Anna says playfully, "Oh, don't worry, pretty sure you will always be my little tree and every little tree keeps on growing, so before you know it, your head will knock with the post of the door and not much after that we would have to move your bed outside." That earns her a snort from the kit, for milking it. Seemingly satisfied with what she sees, she responds, "Well I might be no mage, but I must say that you did an excellent job, even gives of some kind of wild side."

_Wait... what?_ thinks Nick, looking at his mother to see an earnest smile in her eyes, making sure she's not joking. _Guess a part of my response got pulled along. Ugh, still have to be more guided at where my thoughts flow,_ he thinks, as ears lower to certain extent, fur bristles ever so slightly and while he might not notice it, a soft murmur of what is going through the kit's mind and not all about some enchanted fiber with a wild side.

The older vixen sees this and with a soft sigh she grabs hold of one of his paws. "A berry for your thoughts?" Anna says, while lessening the distance between the two red foxes.

The young fox looks away with a small blush for letting this bother him so much and says softly, "That last part wasn't my intention, guess my attention isn't all here." Something else is clearly still bothering Nick, as he start hugging her with a soft sniff.

As a good mom she somewhat knows what is going on, she has been this whole conversation long. "It's still bothering you, little tree?" less a question and more stated as a fact. Slowly putting her snout onto his head, rapping her tail around him.

"Yes...," comes a reply, almost like a huff. "I don't trust that new noble house," grits Nick and continues, "and no, I have nothing against boars, you know... I wasn't raised like that," he quips. When his mom snuggles him with her snout, the kit rambles on, "It is just that their doing and intentions don't match up, why ask one thing and do another?"

Maybe the kit had a lot of empathy, or Nick was just as good at reading mammals, as he was with books, most likely both, the vixen never could keep something hidden from him for very long. "You haven't told me yet what exactly they did different? I know you told our Red Rock, but I'm here for you too," Anna looks down while saying this, her soft breath alerting the kit.

Looking up into her eyes the kit responds, "When Olafur Pyrite Borato came for a visit to supposedly get information on the topic of laws and commerce of commoners, to help along his relationship with them, he didn't take the book dad proposed for him." A shiver went through Nick, as he came out with the truth, "He took a law book, that is true, just not that one..., he took one of the books about laws and punishments of mages."

Wanting to ease the tension in her son Anna says, "Maybe he or someone in his household wants to learn magic, my two sweethearts aren't the only mages in the meadows." Which is true, everyone could be a mage, some mammals just had way more potential. She slowly strokes his left cheek till the tension leaves him, only to make it comeback with a vengeance, when she holds it still and looks deeply in his eyes, "Oh... that reminds me of something..., Nicholas Linden Wilde."

_Oh sweetwood..._

Her voice turns cold and the frown sends shivers down the kit's spine, ears flat against the back of his head, holding his tail like a stuffed animal for comfort, "On the subject of punishments, today I saw a certain someone with a familiar looking floral green shirt."

_And wolfsbane._

* * *

 

Eyes flash open, sitting right up in a quick motion. I regret the former, as I stare in the glare of the morning sun. "Wolfsbane," I mutter, burrowing my head in my paws trying to blink away the colored spots dancing in my view, even though I know this doesn't help one bit. At least my eyes can recover from pretty much anything. A memory stirs, I shudder at the thought, _Nope, not going to think about that._ Speaking of memories, that dream was pretty spot on and was not a bad revisit, even with the punishment my mother had in mind. I can only groan, the resulting stains wouldn't go out of my fur for weeks and not to mention how bad of a lecture I had gotten from dad. It was a time where I was worried, but still had everything... and then the vermin laid bare their fangs. A low growl leaves my throat, fur bristling in some places, tail standing on end, a pinprick to urge on an action. _It_ _isn't the time for this,_ I scowl, I still hadn't refreshed myself and wanted to do a lot of good today. "Not getting it done here, sitting here on my tail," I mutter, as I rub my face for the last time.

One thing that mom said came true though, I grew up and my bed was now outside, just not because of silly reason like turning into a giant, _if only._ Getting up from my woven mat, I stretch my arms out and scratch my back. I Enjoy the mesmerizing faewood's sky, orange, blue and violet tones clashing in always changing pattern, like a drowned land revealing something different, whenever low tide rolls by. Well, for the part that I can see with all the trees around here, a giant linden tree standing not even ten foot away, its majestic crown giving me plenty of shade in the afternoon. Some provisioning bags and two big bundles of tied bark set against the trunk of the tree, while most of my tools are neatly wrapped in red cloth, next to a stump of wood serving as a stool near some remains of my small campfire. My little piece of home at this forest edge.

I say forest edge, but from here it just looks like a one hundred fifty yard wide clearing in the middle of these woods. Somewhat in the center of this, a stone henge stands in the form of a hexagon with a width of one hundred yards across, showing only a stump in the center, what used to be a sibling to the one behind me. Brushing my fur a bit, as I slowly rehearse in my head, where I want to go today. In quick tempo I put on my brown pants, feeling in my right pocket, if it is still there, reassured by the touch of something round and small. Now I would normally put on the coat that I learned to make from observing mom, but stuff happened and now I wasn't expecting it back anytime soon.

My eyes Look at some work clothes that were almost finished, a dozen for some smaller mammals who worked a lot with soil and herbs, two for a pair of familiar foxes and one set that a certain big mammal smith could use. They just need some final stitching, though I remember using all my thread up on the one for the big horned guy. So first thing first getting some more fibers and snort at the thought, _oh sweetwood, how the vermin made that a hassle._

The mammals of my province are a tight knit bunch, so when someone needs help, they will help to their one hundred percent capacity, ... well, maybe not from the get go. Farmers of cotton sowed alongside the road for me to pick, hemp and flax farmers let parts retting for me to take along. And when the vermin found out, the pest took measures to dissuade the caring folk, I told them I would find another way, so that they weren't further pressed, by these destructive acts. And a new way I did find, I switched to wild plants, more specifically the common nettle, I used some gloves of course. That didn't last long either, I can still smell the flames spreading to the nearby fields. It took years before I got back to making cloth, still the time came, when I had become a woodcutter. I remembered how to get fibers from linden bark and with some help of some redirection of attention, secured my most important gear.

I hook a bark bundle under each arm and start to walk towards the stone henge. It is imposing as ever, forty seven feet tall structure with each pillar holding runes, that not only make it work, but also hold one name of eight families and a small depiction of what species they are. The closest pillar says Wilde with a fox underneath.

My fur stands up at a certain smell, I recognize it as being that of a male hare. He stood here for quite some time, if his sent is this sharp. There is nothing much besides me out here, so I got observed by one of them. Well, nothing happened so far ... .  _And they better not do a thing, for their own sake,_ while thinking this, I'm pretty sure..., okay, I know that I'm wearing my come and get me smirk.

 Stepping through the stone gateway I get to feel the meadow's breeze against my fur, while I'm supposed to be inside the stone henge, I am now standing on a small plateau with fields and crops past the rim. Behind me there is the structure I went through yet different, the closest pillar has a name inscribed in fae tongue, meaning Hopps depicting a bunny fae. Around the center stand eight trees, these trees are the root trees and keep the energy of the spell attached to the rune stones, recycling the aether since centuries ago. This construct connects the Bunny Burrow Woods or Faewoods with the Meadow province. There are eight provinces each with a blessed bloodline and a stone henge leading to a different fae land, the reason for creation forgotten with the passage of the ages, at least most of the how was still pretty well known.

Taking a short path to the left to my favorite spring, leading into a small pond nearby, it feels barren to what it used to be. A barrel covered in a big sheet of red cloth stands near the pond. I drop the bundles next to the barrel and pull away the red cover, showing stones weighing down previous harvested bark and a bucket. After having switched out the bundles, I grab the bucket to fill the barrel again some more. My blessed green eyes reflect on the surface of the water, as I submerge the wooden can, some fish swimming near the disturbance I make. My thoughts wander, eyes radiating kindness and this place so meaningful to us both. I can almost hear the calming chuckle, a ghost smell of pine and faint paws holding me firm, a tear mats my cheek as I set the bucket down beside me. Ears pin to the back of my head, my tail wraps around me, as I crouch and hold my paws to my eyes, softly sobbing, "I miss you..., I miss you so much."

After a while I'm able to recollect myself and finish filling up the barrel, covering it up again before grabbing my month soaked bark back to camp. Sitting on the wooden stump grabbing my tools and I start to strip the fibers from the back of the bark, and make some thread to finally finish the clothing. The now stripped bark is thrown into the campfire pit, to be used later today. Slowly humming a tune, as I do the endwork.

Packing the finished clothes up into three bundles, I get some rope to make my usual makeshift backpack. Tying a large bag of charcoal of yesterdays evening to my lower back, while I put away some bundles of wild berries into my side bag. It still is as heavy as always, at least I am used to it. Instead of taking the left path to the pond, I go right  towards the center of the province. I pinch my snout when I again recognize the scent of this particular hare, this time accompanied by some bigger mammals smells. A low edged rumbled leaves my throat, _They can't be this stupid can they?_ I jeer at the idea. The mammals aren't here though and as I want to be back at camp before midday I just continue on down the slope.

Alongside the path to the shops I need to be at, I can see the outlines of a  stone house with a little orchard and a small training field. Two male dark gray furred timber wolfs looking a lot like one another running towards me on the branched of path. "Uncle Nick," they yell in sync as they near me, showing a somewhat reserved smile. Almost tripping over their own hind paws when they come to a sudden halt before me.

Snickering at the Wolfard boys antics, I greet the young fellows, "Hey Cinn and Amon." Those aren't their first names, but their middle names were just perfect for these twins, full of energy and an uplifting duo, not something to bark at. "As you can see, I'm just doing my morning deliveries, do you need help?" I say with a sincere smile, tilting my head a bit.

Blue eyes stare a few second wondering what to say first, Cinn starts, "Oh no, eh, we don't need any help at the moment."

Amon adds in with a smile, "Big sis is doing fine by the way, thanks for helping."

Cinn continues with a big grin, "Dad still wants to invite you over for dinner."

Amon matches the grin, "Mom agrees that you should come."

"That is good to hear," I smile at the good news, and smirk showing some fangs, "I do it with pleasure and pride, I'll take up on the offer, if I have the time." I notice them staring at my bare upper body.

"Um, sorry again for losing your coat," says Cinn nose lowered facing the ground, his tail held low.

Amon mirrors this, "We thought that this young green eyed fox was a relative of yours."

Cinn fidgeting his paws together to underline his embarrassment of the mess up, "He looked so much like you, yet also not."

This was the reason I didn't have my coat back, seemingly a normal green eyed tod resembling me or a close relative had taken my clothing. Which is strange, I know no fox with normal green eyes, there never had been any. Except that one instance when I was twelve, but that didn't make any sense, because said fox should be older than me then. I already knew that it happened, before the twins told the news for the first time. On one of my returns to camp I found a note wrapped with my tools, which if I have to believe, confirms my rather problematic assumption that it is the same tod.

Hey Again,

It has been a while since we last spoke to one another, huh.

I gave you something that one evening and already took my payment.

No, not your coat, but a part of something you held dear.

I took your coat as prepayment for something in the future.

Hope you aren't too mad, oh sweetcheese, weirded out is more likely.

You aren't able to wear it for much longer anyway.

We will meet again, when I give you a thing you need, but can't think of it.

From a friendly dream

Weird wasn't enough to describe all this, the mammal in question spoke like it knew everything, past, present and future. This tod knew my one hidden plan, he even knew it, before I thought about it, handing me one of the things I needed for it. No, not just handing me something, but a better version of that something, an extra point to the plan. How did he even know that I had reached one final chance for the vermin to better themselves and if they didn't relent, stuff would change and how was he able to put the message where it was? And yet I'm not scared of this strange dream, because back then I could only read care, compassion and a certain amount of curiosity come from his handling.

"It's alright you two, you got hustled, it happens," they look at me when I say this, I scratch my neck, "I'll head on now, want to be back in the shade when midday arrives." I start walking further, noticing them coming along. "Need to go somewhere?" I ask after a while, having seen them wear a daydreaming stare and a slow swish of their tails. "We are almost at my first stop for deliveries, hope you didn't follow for my boring transactions," I jest, I can guess why they followed, I have seen lots of canines with that expression.

Cinn stumbles out of the daze, looking flustered at me, "Oh, um yeah, we got some pocket money to go visit Carob."

Amon adds on, with drool pooling in his mouth, "Nothing can beat her candy." Ah, yes, I guessed as much, all canines love the girl's store. Evie Carob Oakheart, the white hare of her family, as business savvy as the others, but a caring heart coming with ideas to make life better, instead of sabotaging mammals of just doing that. She probably would represent how her house was in the past, now it was a hassle to get the permits and other paperwork done through them. Cinn and Amon start fidgeting again, what is up with these big pups now. "There is one other thing, we kind of wanted to ask for you know...," Speaking in such a soft whisper like voice, that I have to raise an eyebrow, Amon approaches me, "Well um, dad told us about the thing sis and he wear, we kind of wondered if..."

Holding my paw up to make him stop. "I get it, I still have two in my bag, but put them on when you get home, okay?" not a question, but a demand, as I stare them down, as much as someone of my height can do.

"Yes uncle Nick," says Cinn.

"We understand," adds Amon, though they mean to be serious, they can't suppress their growing smiles. I shake my head slightly with a chuckle, as I start taking out two red pawkerchiefs and hand them to the twins. They put them away the instance the cloth touches their paws.

We arrived in front of my first destination a general trinket store called Stuff and Things, rustic browns from weathered cast iron contrast nicely with the green bark pillars and rosemary bushes growing against the face of the building, almost swallowing the big windows showcasing all different kinds of tidbits inside the store. A sign against the door saying, "You ask for it, we get it." The owner has a lot of connections across the eight provinces, and will be able to get you pretty much anything providing you have the coin or a service she can use. Turning to my fellowship, I say, "Well, this is my first stop, say hi to Carob for me."

Receiving a small nod and a, "We will," from the two as they start running of. I smile softly, after everything that has happened in past two decades, there is still light in this province and I will protect it for the full one hundred percent, _Even if I..._

My thought gets interrupted by hearing the door open behind me, a black tall slender feline looks with her yellow eyes at me, a smile growing before she says, "Ah, Nick, I was expecting you." She looks at all the stuff I'm carrying and then inspects my bare chest, a low purr leaving her as she says playfully, "Is that all for me, want to ask me out on a tour, or did you just have a boys night out with the twins?"

I roll my eyes at her quip, "No, Ms. Rayah Papyra Growlsen, you are however the first one to get their delivery and my coat has been whisked away," I gruff a bit, I loved that coat. Rayah tends to be rather less playful, though she loves to banter the gossip out of your pants. It shows in her clothing, a neat white button blouse, with a slight mauve shirt underneath and some soft green pants to finish of the look.

"You don't have to say my full name Nick, I like to think that we are close friends more than business associates," she says this while ruffling my chest fur, before guiding me into the store. Friends would be putting it wrongly, Rayah just respects me for what I can do and do for her and others. It didn't help that I asked her for a few peculiar items, then again she earned her credit, she got what I asked for and kept it private, all while I could pay it in different ways then coin. The store is filled with tables, shelves and drawers loaded with a wide array of tools, trinkets, books, spices, plants, gear and more. On first impression everything looks old and worn, yet as I glance closer, I can only recognize the glow and feel of high quality goods. "It's a good thing that you got here first, the Cloverfields are checking in for their new work tunics in about an hour," she states, while I grab the bundle with the dozen sets for small mammals and put them on the counter.

Rayah checks every set very carefully, it isn't that she doesn't trust me, simple put she wants quality in the goods she secures for a trade. After checking the last one she exclaims with a wide smile, "I can only appreciate the amount of fine work you put into this, knowing your workspace situation it is quite astonishing."

Patting my chest, I state, "I am a Wilde, we have made clothing from even before the stone henges came to be." Though that was mostly done by the brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins, since a blessing got appointed to our bloodline, which made our part of the family a source of enchanted garments, "the workspace isn't that much of an issue, it's a boon, mom and grandpa made clothing in the shade of a tree as well." The enchanted clothing was made as gifts for special occasions, and was mostly a pair job between blessed and spouse, since making clothes isn't the main job of a province mage.

"I know, everybody knows your house, when it comes to clothing," she says with a keen eye. "It's a commodity that many can't obtain now, with the Boratos in control of the Wilde commerce and all, Lucky for them I got you," she winks at me and I can only huff at that.

A somber fact crosses my mind, _... not much my relatives can do... and mom..._ The thought of her fate sends me in a laps of fury, _wolfsbane! I want to tear them apart and yet what am I doing? Just making clothing, gathering wood and goods for coin and for what? This higher road plan that has been taken how long already?_ My tail swishes agitatedly, hackles raised.

Rayah obviously sees my frustration, the amount of bare fur I'm sporting can only accentuate the fit I'm having. A rare soft smile paints her snout, messing with my fur yet again she says, "We are doing something Nick, it might not be much, but don't forget what everyone and you still do."

I know this is true and yet I long for this dark fulfillment, _Ugh I don't have time for this._ I pinch my nose, "Sorry about that, Rayah. I... I have been feeling off-kilter." _Oh, almost tipping over into the deep end, yeah nothing wrong with me,_ I would be rolling my eyes at myself, if I didn't like the idea off it. Stating tiredly, "I know we do important stuff even if it is small, it just... there seems to be no end, everything just keeps getting..." _to me._ Taking a deep breath, I say on a semi friendly tone, "I do have to thank you and everyone for still doing business with me, even with the vermin forbidding trading with a savage," I air quote the last word.

Rayah just grins at that, "Ha! Like I would listen to those rules." Rayah a dealer following rules besides her own, I would raise an eyebrow, _highly unlikely._ "You are a great mammal Nick, it would be a waste to not trade with you and I hate wasting good friends," saying it with merit, she lays down some coins on the counter with a wink, "Here's your pocket change for a craft well done, Fangs of the Meadows." She snickers, when she sees me grouch at the title.

As I tuck away the well earned coin as I respond, "I wish you didn't come up with that nickname just because I bite." Seeing Rayah's mouth open I add, "Don't go Red Paw Chief on me either, I don't care that we are alone in this store." _They mustn't know, the lower road must stay hidden, till it is too late to change, if it comes to it._ "I do appreciate your efforts to lighten my mood, Bassi," I say with a wink, my voice finally put back into a more lighthearted tone.

Rayah's grin widens at hearing the nickname, "Haven't been called that in a long time." She lets out a soft purr and mild pleasant surprised sandstone yellow eyes take me in, "I have to say that you are sturdier than you look, with you always wearing such baggy clothing," Do I smell the motif for the repeated touching of my chest, yeah... no, unless she likes males that look like well trained teenagers, besides I like the extra space in case I get that long wished growth spurt, but no extra inches in these eighteen years so far. "It should have been obvious with everything you keep heaving about," she says with slight admiration, knowing full well how hard it is to maintain this constitution for me.

_Oh that and other...,_ a toothy grin starts to form, as I walk to the door, I quip, "Oh, you know, been doing stuff and things for more than fifteen years." I can hear her a soft, oh sweetwood, behind a raised paw, she shakes her head while smiling. "Well, I'll see you again another day, take care Bassi."

I hear her say, "Till next trade Red Fangs," as I leave the store. That is one drop done, two more to go. Luckily for me they aren't that far from here, I can see the Gray's bakery already. The store in question was located on a circular plaza, shops selling food and drinks lined the edges.

It always amazes me how the cooperative spirit is visible in the arrangements of the buildings. The Watermill a tavern and Little Treats a dinner shared a terrace place outside, while one served mostly the drinks, the other served mainly food. Their respective owners a beaver and a weasel are longtime friends, even adjusting what they serve to go well with what the other could offer. While next to the Gray's Bakery was Carob's store called Healthy Heart, if one was to run out of an ingredient the other would lend it if they could. Brainstorming on new recipes together and making plans to help the farmers while avoiding the eye of the vermin.

While crossing the plaza I can spot the twins still going at it in Carob's store, they literally are bouncing from one rack of sweets to the next and back. I bet that it will be well past midday when those two decide what to get and knowing Carob, she will add some extra sweets for them and Alisa.

I head into the bakery, or they might pull me into their discussion on which one is better, if they notice me outside. As I enter the door I can see light shining through the very big windows, the natural light flows over the multitude of pastel browns and periwinkle purple furniture and decorations. A soft chime of a brass bell announces my entry, I can smell all the fresh baked goods, ranging from breads made from various nuts or grain on the shelves, to pastries made from any color of fruit in the display. Erick Chester Gray and his wife Jane Lila Gray enter the store front, the smiles they wear getting that tiny bit bigger when they see it's me. "Hey brother, I see you got everything with you," says Erick coming from behind the counter and gives me a tight hug, which I return, both our tails softly swaying at the kinship that has been there since our ancestors settled in the province.

Both our red fox families had a chance at having one of the eight noble houses positions, but the Grays didn't want it and made us Wildes take it. When my ancestors got the blessing, they could only think of involving the Grays with the bunny fae. That made the Grays the second spokesmammal of the fae in this region and tied our two families closer together. I still remember all of us playing in the garden and even after the multitude of problems that have taken place since the start of the troubles, we keep viewing each other as one family.

"Hey Red Dough," I say kindly, before looking at Jane, "hey sis, yes, I got your two new uniforms." We release each other from the hug and I pat his stomach and quip playfully, "Yup, nickname still suites you, just as my clothes for you do, though if you want to keep wearing them, I might recommend some more healthy snacks instead." Erick rolls his eyes in a half mocking way, I turn to sis, "No offense to you Jane, you just make the most tasty blueberry pastries with this brother of mine." I step over to Jane to give her a hug.

"None taken," says Jane and gives a light hug, I can smell a fruit growing.  After the short embrace she gives my left arm a squeeze. "We can't all be mister beefcake," she says with a soft teasing smile, I can only blush at that and she quips, "I like my tods taller though, little pebble." And she goes and ruins my mood, yes I know I'm not even four feet and I know I'm shorter than even most vixen. An oh wolfsbane expression paints her face, when she sees my ears folding back and the hurt in my eyes.

I know she didn't intend to make me remember, but that statement, the nickname and the smell, I just have to let out my frustration, my voice trembles, "You..., I can't help being the smallest grownup tod around." Hackles raised by just thinking about it. "The vermin did this to me!" I yell, my anger seeping out in the tone of my voice, before it turns into a sob of loss, shame and frustration, "They took everything and then they took more, they took my growth and I... I can't even..." Two pair of arms rap me tenderly one set at each side, before I can break down yet again today.

Jane's blue eyes tell me, that she wants to plant her face somewhere in a sack of flour for trying to be ignorant about what happened. "I'm so sorry Nick,... I didn't mean to go there,... I keep forgetting how we...," her voice wavers as her ears are tucked to her scalp.

Keeping my snout shut, as thoughts rage through me, _You don't forget Jane, everyone just doesn't want to think about it, you all feel too much guilt. Guilt about the pain caused by these pests, guilt about what is lost and damaged, guilt about what I had to go through alone...,_ _because the townsfolk were too scared._ There was a period where I downright hated everyone, they were fortunate it didn't last long and I was fortunate enough, that they saw not doing anything was worse. _You all took your sweet time though!_

"We are sorry we couldn't be there for you," whispers Erick, amber eyes with tear matted fur filled with regret look at me. "There is not enough blueberries in the whole Faewoods to set stuff right, because if there was, I would keep baking pies till it was." I can only smile slightly at that.

Being mad at Erick and Jane wouldn't be fair, we were all just kids at the time. We were either frustrated, scared, confused, besides us not knowing why the adults let it happen. We all lost a lot, some just more than others. It became clear that the new noble house wasn't up to anything good and the sad realization that the king of Zootopia supported them and not the mammals of the Meadows Province, made the situation only more disheartening.

_I need to go on, I promised and I vowed,_ I think this after a good ten minutes of affection. I wipe my last tears away with my arms and say, "It's not your fault." I let out a huff, "No need to feel guilty," After the two foxes let me go, I continue unpacking the clothes while saying, "I think it is time I showed you two the new sets I made, nothing special though." The sets consist out of a lilac colored linen apron upon a light blue shirt and a light oak brown workpants. The bakery's logo is stitched on the back of the shirt and in a smaller version in the top left corner of the aprons, a silhouette of a fox holding a pie together with a bunny fae.

I see the two of them smile, while they examine the pieces, Erick almost starts to cry again while he touches the fabric and the logo. "It feels just like the ones my parents wore," he mutters, a bit later he looks down at me, grabs my shoulders and says with excitement, "They are just perfect."

"Yeah, I remember you saying, that you wanted something similar," I smile at seeing the joy in his eyes and the soft sweep of tail of a satisfied mammal, "Oh, you probably didn't know this, but I put the same intents into the clothing as the ones your parents had." Erick's eyes grow big, as I continue, "You never knew they were enchanted right?" Red Dough nods at this. "I guessed as much, mom made those as a wedding present, since mammals don't need enchanted wedding clothes," saying this, as I still remember mom telling it to me. I asked her after I felt the intents attached to them, after I hugged Erick's father. You would wonder how else they had pristine clothing all the time, for sure with how much flour and fruit flew about with young kits and all.

"You made them, because we married last month?" asks Jane, ears standing up, I nod, "So it's wedding gift?" Staring at it like she wants to run to the backroom and put it on this instance.

"Yup," dragging out the p to make me state my intention, "it also means it is free of charge." I see  them wanting to protest, "That doesn't mean, I don't accept bread with blueberry jam or a slice of blueberry pie," I give a toothy grin, ah blueberries who can see no to them? Vermin maybe, but not me, "Oh, I still have something else for you two," mentioning this, as I take out the bundles with wild berries from my side bag, "Here are some berries from the Faewoods, thought you could use them for making trials in case my plan succeeds."

Erick and Jane look at the bundles, before he grabs one little fruit and puts it into his mouth, "Oh sweetwood, these can only be berries from the Hopps." Jane can only make out a blissful hum, I can only grin at both their reactions, these berries are indeed the best anyone can ever have, at least that is what the books said and so far I have to agree. "I should pull out some old family recipes for these ones, by the way how goes the plan so far?" he stares at me while still munching on a berry.

 "The chances of success are pretty high just not one hundred percent, I'm waiting on the Oakhearts for the needed permits, they are not the ones I'm worried about though," it will always come down to what the vermin do, doesn't it?

"I know what you mean," sighs Erick, "with the moon festival nearing they act even more suspicious, some even say that a small group of them is acting rather bold." His ears tucked a bit to the backside, his tail tip twitching slightly, Red Dough must be nervous. And I? I just hope they aren't thinking of doing it, a bull wouldn't run after a red cloth, but vermin... they get easily blindsided of spiked pits.

The chime of the bell announces the arrival of other mammals, it looks like a group of rabbits of the Greenakery family have come to get some daily bread, I shouldn't expect me being the only one needing to come here at this time of day and more are sure to follow. Not wishing to hog the two foxes I say, "I think I should let you two back to running your bakery, besides I still have to do another delivery and you know how Buffalo Butt loves punctual mammals." The couple grin slightly at the remark, oh, they know what I mean.

While Jane handles the costumers, Erick grabs my shoulder, he says with stubborn smile that implies I'm not getting out of the oven just yet, "You just wait a minute brother, got to give you that bread, jam and slice." He runs off with the bundles to the back room, grabbing stuff by the sound of glass being placed and cardboard being folded. And in less than a minute comes back out with a Gray's bakery box. "Enjoy," says Erick, handing it over with a wink.

I pack away the tasty treats and give Red Dough a quick last hug before saying goodbye to the both of them. Now standing back outside with the chime of the bell already dimming, even more so now that the door is closed, I look around the plaza. There really was no vermin to be seen as of yet, maybe I should be worried about this, but might as well enjoy the nice day even if I had faltered a few times in keeping my smile going.

Passing the shop windows left and right, making my way down a wide road that leads to a couple of large buildings where the much bigger mammals have their workplaces. My current destination being the one estate that looks like a big orange brown bricked farm with a big inner courtyard, except with a lot more steaming chimneys and a lot less hay or poultry. At the side a grated channel diverts water from a small stream into the workplace. This is the main smithy of the province and even from the place I'm standing, I can hear the sounds of hammers hitting metal. One in particular drums in almost aggravating manner, both the wielder and I can really use this for lessening certain frustrations.

The main gate made out of reinforced oak wood stands open, so even smaller mammals can pass trough, a nice thing when you don't want to wrestle with something five times your size and over ten times your weight. As I walk into the place I examine the place, the sound of mammals being busy permeating the air now with soft grunts and huffs. The inner courtyard was paved in granite slabs, an iron grate in the center gave access to the channel underneath it. Metal ornaments, nails, lanterns, torch bases and more equipment for the upcoming moon festival were placed against the left side of the entrance wall, while gear, tools and armor was on racks and pedestals on the right.

Scanning for the mammals present, I could see about five going at it on the forges, a male rhino, a female horse, a bull and two water buffalos. It would be an understatement to say that the six mammals present here wanted to be the bane of the vermin's existence, yet we all had our ways to rebel and for the mammals here you could see it clearly in their work.

Zekki Bitterwood M'chorn was a silent type, lots of his emotions seem to be hidden behind an indifferent facade, but his friends and as such I, know where to look, his emotional outlet is in his fine work of smithery. He was making impressive lanterns, branches like the crown of a runic tree shaped in the form of an orb, held up by one of the eight mammals representing the original noble houses of the province. There were no boars, nor donkeys, nor tigers, but foxes, cheetahs and water buffalos. A silent denial of the kings decree, that so many meadow mammals shared, still they wouldn't make it into a graspable statement like our rhino buddy here.

Narina Poppy Draftinton loves trickery, mostly techniques were she hides stuff out of plain sight. She excels at making ornaments of variant sizes that house secret compartments, that if you don't know about, you would have a hard time figuring it out. She is busy making a ceremonial metal box and knowing her one with some hidden compartment and a mechanism only opening up if you placed six digits correctly. She is on very good terms with Rayah, as anyone who rebelled more visible would get punished with restrictions and limited access of services and resources. For this place Bassi is the main source of ores now, together with the lion share of the forge fuel. Our mare only had to make what she loves to make, which made our feline's job to move stuff and things about unnoticed that much easier.

If you asked other mammals about Faust Hickory Tarrom they would say he has a passive aggressive attitude, the happy tone this bull usually talks to you with, contrasted so much with his natural dead glare that you thought a thunder storm would appear and strike you down, because of all the charge building up around him. The most dangerous thing about getting too close to him however would be getting hugged to dead. He is rather a clear example of looks being deceiving, both himself and all the tools he makes. He is tinkering away with some farm equipment and in all likelihood made the small gear stock on the plaza. Now on the deception part it lies in the fact that these normal looking farm tools are extremely sharp and durable, while the high quality looking weapons he reluctantly makes for the vermin are so blunt, that even a ten year old butter knife fairs better in stabbing a mammal. All this, because he cares for this province and hopes his tools can help, or sabotage in the vermin's case.

The two towering water buffalos are Cornel Ebony Bogo and his son Dionis Bubingo Bogo, Cornel is showing the proper family forging techniques to Dionis, as grunts and huffs accompany the calculated and well placed strikes. He comes over as a no nonsense mammal, don't get me wrong he is just that but also more. His co-workers and I can see the zeal filled handling glowing through his sturdy brickwork exterior and that zeal is also a gift of support to the victims of the pests.

Dionis is eager to take up his families teachings, his eyes taking in the movement of limbs, tools and places of contact. The biggest difference between him and other mammals besides Dio just observing his dad, was the fact that he didn't have blue smithy overalls with the smithery emblem everyone else wears or a red cloth, I can't see past those.

While closing the distance between the two and I, I yell, "Hey teach! Hope Dio is taking up the stuff with distinction." I can hear Cornel snorting in annoyance already, and I quip, "Otherwise you need to hammer it into his head more, nevertheless the clothing won't be the problem." Dionis's expression lightens up at the implication of the latter part, while Buffalo Butt narrows his eyes at me, before putting aside the metal he was demonstrating on.

"Wilde!" he yells, before saying sternly, "I know it's a joyous occasion, still can't you be more serious about it." Cornel motions his son to come closer, who's lips softly curl up into an excited grin.

"Well I can also cry my eyes out, or scream bloody murder," I say with a bit of sass, the last part sounds quite tantalizing. I wear a toothy grin saying, "But I assume that neither of those are better for your temper." He lets out a huff, but his stern expression falters, when Cornel sees my smile drop into a grimace. "It already happened more than once today, so don't tempt me," I state with a grisly tone, before donning a soft smile again, as I remove the ropes from the final clothing set and stash it wound up into my side bag. Handing both the big bag hanging of my back and the bundle to Cornel, to state with pride, "One blacksmith set of the house and a bag of high quality linden charcoal, here you go Teach."

Buffalo butt sets the bag down next to some crates with materials he needs for the headpieces of the festival. He quickly inspects the outfit and fails slightly to not smile at the gift he got. Then he turns towards Dio and grabs his shoulder firmly before speaking with a voice that betrays how proud he is, "Today you join this forge, adding your hammer to ours, your partners in blue awaiting you." His eyes fall on the emblem of the forge house, a yellow shield holding a hammer and a star above it, Cornels eyes glass over ever so slightly, when he recalls the next part, "Let this shield guide you, to temper the steel of the fair, to fan the flames of the just, to forge aid for those in need." Those four lines weren't used solely for the forge, I am glad it is still here, after everything we are still holding on to parts and pieces, so is Bogo's house. The other mammals have joined us, standing close by in a semi circular way, a sense of jubilation showing in their eyes and stance.

Dionis accepts the bundle, he can't suppress a big smile, as he responds with the oath of the house, "Doning my blues, I take up my hammer, making fair in the warmth of the just, to share with those in need, as the shield of the house shows my path." The two of them start to hug as the others start to cheer and clap to the addition of a new hammer of the shield. Staring at Cornel and Dionis takes me back almost twenty four years, a sweet memory, a special moment we shared, quite comparable to this, another tear mats my cheek, _Something I can never have..._

My pain make me drift, everything besides me seems like an illusion no longer here, yet holding on to the seams and texture of space, like a dye bleeding from the edges. Or am I the one fading? Drowning without knowing that it is occurring, _there is still air... right?_ "Enough! This isn't a break room," a voice yells, I barely registering that it is Cornel's. Taking a deep breath, I notice that Dio has put on the set, while I was wandering about my mind. The base looks like a sturdy blue jacket, with a thick black mitten reaching the left shoulder, a crisscross of yellow stitching on the inner side of said arm, the other arm only having a sturdy cloth to still provide a certain amount of protection, yet a flexible glove to still be able to expertly handle finer and more precise work. A thick black apron covers the front, large pockets for tools worked into the fabric. The yellow shield present on the right shoulder.

Cornel pulls my attention, when he notice me gaze at Dio wearing my craft, with a rather unexpected compliment, "I got to give it to you, Wilde, your family makes the best work clothes a mammal can ask for, I got my blues for over thirty five years now and they still look as good as new." _Eh, Buffalo Butt doesn't...? You got to be kidding me,_ a rather deadpanned thought. He goes on, not noticing my bewildered expression, "My Serina thinks, I love them too much, with how easy to clean these are." I raise an eyebrow, _Yup he doesn't know, wonder why dad never told him. Though it was probably mom who handed them over, maybe she didn't know exactly what was on it? Na..._ When he finally notices me staring dumbfounded at him, he goes a tad embarrassed, "Out with it Wilde?"

"You do know there is very easy explanation as to why they still look brand new, even with three decades having passed and them being very easy to clean," Cornel gives me a stare saying, get to the point, "Three words, they are enchanted," I state flatly, seeing him frown, I add, "I know about the whole trouble you can get yourself into, if your enchanted crafted piece gets used for murder, but did you really think, that with at least four blessed bloodlines being crafting houses, we wouldn't find a way to circumvent it by using a rather special intent?" I shrug at the last statement.

"Wilde!... With this special intent thing, why aren't there mammals enchanting gear left and right?" Cornels voice flares up, warning me that he would have loved to have known this earlier, much earlier. I would almost think, that he heard me saying ten legal ways to make and sell wolfsbane.

"Sweetwood, Intent thing, Teach? Did dad explain anything about enchanting to you? Because if not, explaining why not might be hard to distinguish from tax forms," I speak as a matter of fact. Cornel thinks about it, then dons a rather unsure look. I can have a guess, "He probably made you confused when he spoke in terms of rocks, soil and water, right?" He lets out a small groan, as he gives a small nod. I can only sigh at that, dad had some weird explanations at times. "He probably thought you would get that one because you work with ores, but let me try to teach you a bit, Teach," I quip, while wiggling my eyebrows. He snorts, yet clearly shows interest. "This time let us compare it to a book, one of my dad's better analogies."

"The book itself would be the object you want to enchant, that or a part of the object, not everything can be enchanted as easily, certain stuff is downright impossible to tie intent to directly. Those being living things and almost anything fluid. Intent can be seen as the written word in the book, strictly speaking one intent ties to one chapter of the book no matter how short or long it is," saying it like any enthusiast. A question rises up on Cornels tongue, as I haven't explained the concept yet, I cut him off with the question, "What is intent you ask? It is also known as will or trickery, you will a property of the object to be different, or into existence, you trick the world to accept your view." A fox mage hustling the world into taking his point of view, an argument some had made before..., lucky me our province knows better.

Dionis steps closer, he isn't the only one standing nearby to listen to me rambling away. I see them wearing smiles, mom always said I made others want to listen, when I got passionate. I ramble on, "The ink the words are written in would be energy, spirit, mana, dream juice, aether, take your pick, which keeps the intent going. Fire gives of a lot of energy that can linger, which can interfere with the energy of the intent. Weak intents tend to get erased like pouring water over the page, Strong intents are tricky bastards they can move from one thing to another, like tearing a page and inserting it into another book, it can lead to some special events." Be it a blessing or a curse, a wildcard that can go wrong so many ways. I examine everyone's faces as I ask, "Everything clear enough so far?" Cornel nods with a huff, Dionis has a question, knowing him he will ask it after I'm done. The other hammers of the shield just want to listen.

Arriving at the matter, why I'm saying this, I say it formally, "Now to come to the part why not everyone uses that one special intent to not end up with murder charges. This has to do with the differences, that are there between being blessed or not. You only get a certain amount of space to put intent to..., well better said you can make out a certain amount of space and that amount differs from you and me. Simply put into ratio, I get ten to one times more writing room than you. And I use about forty seven percent of it for that one special intent, so only a blessed individual can finish it." Cornel raises an eyebrow at the explanation, before glaring again, as if I'm holding something back, which I kind of was, since hey why does it matter. "Why yes Teach, always the observant glarer aren't you? You are right on there being more than mammals, we also have the fae. They don't get punished though, but neither are they known for sharing any of their tools, you wouldn't be able to use them anyway. And fae can easily spot a lie, so earning trust would be hard, if you were planning to do bad deeds." You can still trick them though, ah... I know a certain fae, quite naive for someone her age. Buffalo Butt seems satisfied with the enchantments and you session, I would almost think this was an interrogation, if not for the fact that I like to talk about this.

"So the stone henges, trains, airships and magical constructs are enchanted? I thought they had to do with runes?" ask Dionis with more wonder, than I thought a strong adult buffalo could posses. Maybe it is the feel of mystery they call into being, or Dio wants to make one himself. I don't blame him, the structures do indeed tend to be quite imposing, still there are also very mundane things.

"Though some of them have parts that are enchanted, they always involve runic inscription, that doesn't mean they always carry a rune to see," The book analogy of the pen used to write is one example of the latter, my right paw instinctively reaching for my pocket as I think of this. I stare at my hovering paw, before relaxing it and reply with a grin masking my simmering anguish, "The Honeybadger bloodline in the Forest province are the most well known creators of runic inscription constructs, but any mammal can do it. Let just keep it to the simple run down differences between the two, otherwise we might be here till next morning, if I start to explain every construct in our province." Would rather take me month to go over every detail, but that sound as fun as trying to make someone learn the dictionary by heart.

I take a deep breath, ready to take a page out of differences between magical applications, for some reason that book could have been a math book in every sense, it fooled me the first time. I remember walking around so much with it, that I left a imprint on the cover, it was quite warm that summer. I smirk, like an evil math teacher, "If enchanting can be seen as redefining a state A as state A', then runic inscription can be seen as the path x that connects states A and B." Dio's eyes tell me he doesn't really get that, I snicker a bit, my tail playfully swishing behind me. Throwing them a ball, when I say, "Simple put, enchanting is a book which says how it is at all times, while a runic inscription is a map saying how to get somewhere if you want to." I hear an ah coming from him, thinking he still doesn't get it completely, I go on, "An basic example is, you can switch on and off a runic lamp, but you wouldn't be able to turn off a glow enchantment. The latter however doesn't need more aether applied to it to work, because it just is, while the former tend to need a source of energy." I can see others nodding and muttering in agreement.

I wonder if it felt like this, I probably was viewed as a ball of energy. _I..., no... I mean no, it isn't the time for this_ , telling it sternly to myself, as words keep flowing from my mouth, "The other name runic inscription has is connection leyline, it can be and is mostly done in a group, compared to enchantments which doesn't let you add onto some other mammals work." A bond broken, a bond kept hidden, a bond I agreed to. Thoughts pacing at the back, while I keep my smile going, _I need to head back, it must be almost midday._ A frustrating itch had worked its way through me already and I need to vent it out. "I should go now, for sure if I want to be back at camp to catch some shade," I give a telling wink at Cornel, he rolls his eyes with a snort, knowing that I'm not taking a nap.

"Back to work! The Moon festival isn't going to prepare itself," yells Cornel with a grunt, more in jest of motivation, than in anger. I'm thankful that I can leave now, I would say that these deliveries always halt me some way, somehow. And almost on cue, before I leave through the ajar door, Buffalo Butt addresses me, like he does with his son, "Wilde, don't forget that you will always be a hammer and here will always be a home for you."

Not looking back I respond, "I don't forget, Cornel... Thanks." And I rush outside with sincere smile stained with tears. I hurry back to camp, trying to hide my matted cheeks from the townsfolk, it doesn't really work as I see worried faces out of the corner of my eyes. Not wanting to dwell on my pain, I focus on this infuriating growing bloody apatite.

The vermin aren't showing their claws, a good thing considering me wanting to jump one and get creative with them. _Maybe make a second..._ , interrupting a rather satisfying suggestion, I notice mammals scurrying away. Looking at some reflective surfaces, while I keep walking at a fast pace, I can't look past the clear signs of ire I bear. Hackles standing on end and no coat to cover most of it, make me more brutish than what you normally expect from a general tall and slender fox species. Lips and snout fold into a snarl, short intakes of air, making me taste strands of saliva coat my fangs and tongue, a growl rumbling away, as ears are tucked back and my puffed tail trashes violent behind me. All signals that the next mammal to get on my nerves will get to deal with my itching wrath.

Running on all fours, a faint joke about how wild I must look comes up. No sign of a chuckle and I love bad word puns, I have it bad. _I should slowdown and take a deep breath, matt my fur down a bit and wipe away my tears that are still flowing, hide behind a smile,_ a thought accompanied by teases and jests. I don't know how long I can keep this up for much longer, water already reaches up to my lips and no end in sight of this rain. This is the one more I promised to give after my limit and it tears me apart.

A shade has spread to cover most of my campsite as I arrive. Still growling and on edge, I pull at the cloth with my tools, which tumble to the ground into a messy heap. Taking my axe in my left paw, setting my sight on a tree, stalking my way towards the trunk and while I can just start hacking away, I have enough sense to check it first. Stuffing my right paw into my pocket, grabbing a bond to connect with the tree and with a snort put my nose against it. Nostrils flaring when I inspect the bark, telling me the tree is old enough for the chop, nor are there traces of birds or other critters mainly living in it. Next I lick to check if there aren't any impurities hidden below the surface, not surprised to find nothing, trees in faelands get rarely sick.

If this tree was a mammal, I believe it would have fainted by now. Speaking of things that move, I'm tasting fear, not from this tree, plants stress, they don't feel fear. No, this comes from the mammal taking peeks at me from the stone henge, my ears pick up its heavy breathing, it must be the hare. Oh sweetwood, let just put on a show shall we, what is better to chop a tree as if it was a vermin, than with one watching me. Licking my lips, exalting in the taste of my cornered prey. I start swinging away at the tree with a wide toothed smile, impacting the axe into the wood parallel to me placing my fangs on their meat, so to speak. Low rumbled chuckles leave me throat, as I imagine their pained cries, trails of blood and torn flesh, as I paint them a little bit more red. My prey smells so bittersweet, a hiccup in his breath, whenever my axe connects with wood and the pest is gone. Let us hope the phrase, fear always works, is correct. But the bigger question is, who are they the most afraid of.

I burst out in a laughing fit, the low road always was more fun, for me that is. My tails flicks with expectation, while I calm down from the fit, still letting short snort of glee pass my smirk. My paw digs into my pocket, before I pull a smooth purple looking stone out of my pocket, caressing the surface with my thumb and whispering with a pained smile, the nickname he had given me, "Little Pebble..."

* * *

 

_Yes!_ screamed Nick through his head in excitement, when it was time for Big Red and him to go for a walk. He had finally reached the age of the big number eight, which meant he was old enough to start practicing magic. Since his dad was the mage noble of the meadows province, he tended to be quite busy with his responsibilities, making Nick yearn even more for their first lesson together.

Waiting for his dad by the tree in the garden, makes Nick mind race about what he is going to learn, about magic and fae, bloodlines and customs. He had memorized the words that he had to say today by heart, even though he didn't know the real implication of them yet. It doesn't take long before he starts to daydream.  

Mammals in a fae blessed bloodline were always educated into being mages of the province, well the ones that showed a visible blessing at least. The most common visible mark of a fae blessed individual, were bright colored glowing eyes, with an iris that seemed to change shape every passing moment. Big Red and Nick both had just that, bright glowing green eyes which seemed to flow like leafs blown by the wind. The less common marks were fur or horn runes, which in little Nick's head sounded awesome and maybe a bit of a downer he didn't have any of that.  And though Nick was tied to a future as a mage, he couldn't be more proud to be who he is, a future mage of the Wilde house.

"Hey little pebble," says a voice, with the strength that rocks hold and the love and care that earth possesses. Nick in turn comes out of his daydream daze and looks over to his dad. "Hope you didn't have to wait too long, I was still picking some stuff up," he pats a bag strapped to his hips, as he says this.

"Had trouble picking which color of coat to wear Big Red?" quips Nick, looking at the always green wearing parent fox, with the house emblem on the back and starts walking towards him. "I was starting to shoot root here, not saying that I don't mind this spot, but I would rather go for a walk with my favorite Red Rock," words coming out of the kits mouth, a he tries to hug his dad's waist, but dad being well over four feet nearing five made this a bit troublesome for an eight year old kit.

Roderick Pine Wilde looks down at his son, ruffles the kit's fur while saying, "Sorry about that then," And continues by poking his son on the nose, "though you still aren't allowed to sneak peek into  my bag, it is called a surprise for a reason."

Nick huffs while letting go, normally he wouldn't be this impatient, but he had been waiting since forever, well forever as in the time he could remember himself in. If he can't see it this moment, he might be able to speed it up a bit. Nick takes a paw of his dad and starts tugging it towards the edge of the garden and says excited, "Then let's go!"

"Well aren't you a ball of energy," snickers Roderick with a smirk across his face, as he lets Nick guide him to the fields. "You know where we are heading to, little pebble?" ask his dad with a raised eyebrow, seemingly his son knew what he was doing.

Nick looks back at his father with a questionable stare, "The same place where we were three years ago, right Red?" Roderick looks stumped, the kit sees this and responds. "What? Thought I would forget our talk? You even keep reminding me about it, with your nickname for me," rolling his eyes even, when he says the last part.

Roderick sighs, a bit disappointed in himself that he forgot his son had an extreme retention of information. He wished he could spend more time with his little Nick, otherwise the kit would remember for sure that his dad was out for most of the time. Nick was already more mature than he was at that age, maybe his absence also encouraged that. Coming to the conclusion that he hasn't responded yet and that Nick is still staring at him for his answer, he says with a small huff, "Yes, you are correct," And ends it with a smile.

This time it is Nick's turn to raise an eyebrow, before saying softly, "You don't have to feel guilty dad." the kit sees the look on his father's face jolt by his response, partly by knowing what was going through the older fox's head and by addressing him as dad, again the kit rolls his eyes and adds, "I can read your face dad, you do the exact same thing, when you say sorry to mom." The kit hugs the older fox again, he takes a deep breath, a whiff of pine tinted fox musk easing the nerves as more words roll out, "It is true, that I want to do more stuff with you. But I'm proud of what you do for everyone, which kit can say that their dad helps a whole province, with things that can't be solved by normal means. I mean, I want to be a mage that can help others, just like you."

Roderick's eyes glass over a bit, as he kneels and takes his son in a tight hug, a soft rumble sounding when he says, "And I'm proud of you too, Nicholas," and after a bit quips playfully, "you still don't get to see what is in the bag, till we get there though." He snickers a bit, as he tickles his son's nose with his tail. Nick paws away at the invasive fluff, huffs and starts guiding again.

Two foxes walk up a path that leads to what appears the top of a hill, or more correctly the top of a small plateau. More banter flowing between the two as they pass fields of cotton, hemp and flax. A narrow stream flows near the path downhill and towards the center of the meadowlands, to zoo center downtown, before turning eastward towards the delta province. Reaching the end of the slope the kit runs ahead and can finally see past the plateaus rim, seeing the stone henge that leads to faeforest in a distance and behind him a view of his home, the town center and all the surrounding fields. Nick smiles at all the different colors the crops and grasses paint the landscape in, remembering that one day he will help this place like his father does now.

A tiny bit further they arrive at their destination, a natural water source forming a little pond, that is the origin of the stream they walked past. Only other thing nearby is a willow with the log bench near it, which is where our two foxes walk to before sitting down.

"Well, we are here now little pebble," says Roderick with a smile, seeing the eager greens of his son he adds, "Customs are an important part of our bloodline, Nicholas." Nick huffs again at this, the kit just wants him to get to it. "Don't give me that look, you know if it was anything else, I would have given it without the need of coming here," says his dad with a stern tone, not something he normally tends to do.

_Oh sweetwood,_ thinks Nick as his ears droop. He feels bad for being so pushy, dad must have done this with grandma once and here he was too impatient to enjoy the special moment in his life, he and big red would share. "I'm sorry, I'm just excited to get my first foci and I go ruin it for both of us," says the kit with a small whimper holding his tail in front of his stomach.

Roderick puts his paw on Nick's shoulder and squeezes it slightly. "It's fine, I'm actually quite excited as well," he says with a growing grin, before opening his mouth again, "I mean you are quite a special case, I had to look up if we had to change some stuff because of it." The kit raises an eyebrow at this. "Oh, nothing is wrong with you, but you did do something that hasn't been done in two hundred years," states Red proudly.

Not knowing what his father really means, Nick straight out asks, "So what did I do?" Before reminding himself what he did three years ago and says questionable, "Was it me picking up that one pebble in the pond?" His father's smile grows as he says this, the kit assumes he is on the right track, but that raises a question, "I showed it to you and even gave it to you, you said it was for safekeeping? You still have it?" Big Red nods. _Wait a minute,_ thinks Nick, "You never gave it back, but if we went on about my first foci then?"

When the realization hit nick's eyes, his father started to chuckle and says, "You are one hundred percent correct, my dear special Nicholas, that pebble was a foci, a fae made and blessed foci and it even was connected to you." Roderick starts explaining further why Nick is special, "So I'll layout the custom to you now, on a fae blessed mammal's eight birthday the whole mage bloodline goes to the meeting place for them and the fae they got their blessing from, for us that is this place, for others it differs from a giant tree in a forest, to a sandbank of shore, or a cave in the mountains and more, this part I told you already." The kit remembers this, though maybe not these exact examples.

Roderick continues as his grin keeps being stuck on his face, "Now normally each fae of the tribe will have made a foci and blessed it for the young mage, then placed it at the meeting place. The young mage in question would then feel a connection with one of those foci, that one will become his first, while the others turn into normal pebbles. For us they would have thrown them into the pond, now for over two hundred years their hadn't been any foci in that pond." Roderick shakes his head, no smile on his face indicating that he is being serious, before he stares right into Nick's eyes,  "So you can see now, why that makes this moment so special."

Nick gasps, ears pointing up, he gets to do something his dad and a lot of others didn't get to do, though that prompts him to ask a question, "But if that's the case, what did you and grandma get as your first foci?"

The older fox sighs, "We would get a glass bead enchanted by our parents, it is more a semi foci then a real one." Nick agrees that it does sound a lot less special. "It also is a lot weaker than the fae blessed pebble," states Roderick, already imagining, how much more variant and potent the kit's spell case will be even without an adult foci.

"Dad, why did they stop putting them into the pond?" ask Nick, wondering whatever could have made them do that. Was there a fight between them, did they do something wrong? Like forgetting an important custom, or calling them something they tremendously disliked.

Tilting his head a little, Roderick tries to summary, "Well, we aren't really sure, around that time something very disastrous had happened, only one member of our bloodline survived, his name was Martin Oak Wilde and he was only six years old at the time. There is an old drawing book in our library made by him, but he never wrote down much after that, though I know for certain that this willow was planted by him and the townspeople, who took care of him till he was old enough," the older fox looks at the tree and continues, "and the fae? Well for some reason they forgot us, stranger still they don't know we exist, nor do they recognize us as being there" His expression darkens. "So even when others or I went to ask them about what is going on, we weren't any wiser," say Red with a frown and a snort. Seeing the tells of surfacing question coming up on his son's face as the snout went open a bit, he adds, "The disaster left Martin mute, and by the time he could write properly he had forgotten most of it." Silence floated about as both foxes thought about what must have been lost.

They weren't here for that though and feeling that the conversation had derailed from why they were here, Nick grabs his dad's paw, effectively pulling Big Red to the ongoing matters, "Ah yes, anyway let us start the binding, you remember the words?" Nick nods affirmative, as his dad opens his bag and pulls out a purple and smooth looking pebble, the size and shape of a medium marble.

Holding both his paws like a cup with the pebble on top, Roderick stares into Nick's eyes, green connects with green and a solid voice leaves Big Red, "I stand watch as my blood crosses the borders of mere moments."

"I am connected to the past and to what shall be," Nick's voice sounding calm and serene, pupils slightly changing size.

"I stand watch over the connection made between my blood and the fae that blessed us in our souls," Roderick's gaze grows stronger, seemingly peering into the very thing as he speaks.

"A new brother am I to the fae, in soul and blessing I am equal," Nick says distantly, the irises slowing their change to a snail pace.

"I stand watch as a bond takes shape, my blood no longer alone," the older fox swears that he can see someone in there, this is very different to how his binding went and just that, not knowing for sure makes him a tad nervous.

"Fae and I sharing the same path," Nick's eyes turn sharp and edged, he blinks. "Giving and nurturing in support and strength," his eyes back to normal when he opens them, yet still sounding like he is not there.

"Nicholas Linden Wilde take this foci as a bond never to be broken again," Roderick stretches out his arms towards Nick as he says this, he hopes that everything went the way it was supposed to go.

"As a bond is my blessing, I shall keep it close," while saying this the young fox grabs the pebble with his left paw, passes it to his right and moves it towards his pocket, but before he puts it in, his head snaps towards the stone henge in the distance.

_Oh sweetwood and Wolfsbane_ , Roderick's mouth forms a flat line, is this supposed to happen with the real deal? He had read up about it a lot, but certain things could differ like the reactions, mostly due to particular dynamic between fae and mage. And not knowing what went through his son's mind, or if he was allowed to say something, had made him bristle his fur without any intent of doing so.

After a few minutes Nick finally puts his first foci away and turns to face his dad again, as he sees the older fox's fur standing on end, he snickers and quips, "Everything okay dad? Seen something special?"

The older fox is a bit lost on words, for one his son seemed fine and had taken the binding seriously ,till now that is. "Well totally different from mine, that's for sure," Says Roderick baffled. "Could you tell me what happened at the end there?" he asks curiously, "you were looking at the direction of the stone henge for quite some time."

The kit looks unsure, "I... I think I talked with someone, don't remember about what though." Trying to remember anything at all, he comes to is a single word, spoken out like a whisper, "Lavender..., like the ones we have at home."

Big Red looks pensively, before responding, "I have my guess at who you talked to, but humor me and tell what you think, little pebble."

Nick huffs, thinking he would get a new nickname, then again he got this one probably three years early. Returning his attention to the question, he draws a simple but understandable conclusion, "The one fae who blessed the pebble, it is called the binding ritual for a reason."

Roderick nods and ads, "The young mages are supposed to be already connected to their first foci, so the binding is more of a way to strengthen the connection between the blessed and the fae. They are confirmed soul brother or sister to that one fae." His smirk grows, before he quips, "Some might say it is a sort of engagement between both parties."

A frown crowns the kit's face, not amused at all by the thought of marrying, just because he connected to a pebble. He didn't even know a thing about this one fae, well almost nothing, though the seemingly forgotten conversation had a nice touch to it. "Dad!" huffs Nick, staring intensely with a scowl only having the effect of the older fox scratching his neck and letting go of a chuckle.

"Oh, I still have a present for you, little pebble," Roderick takes out a thick oak brown book, the corners are reinforced with silver, curls and loops forming a decorative runic pattern. Nick's eyes widen at the sight. "You always loved fairytales, so I thought a book about fae with lots of illustrations, would be something for you," says Roderick, as he hands it over with a smile, the kit almost let it drop, appearingly it weight more than he expected.

Nick slowly inspects the cover, it looks pristine, it must have been newly made, that or enchanted to ward of dirt and aging. If he knows his dad as well as he thinks he does, then Big Red must have gone out of his way to get it made on special order. Probably at Mr. Gazen's place, the elder goat always had a love for making unique books. On the first page, the little paw written message makes him blush with a smile, caressing the words before flipping through the pages, the kit fox notices drawings of general fae appearances, maps of faelands, monuments and their inner workings, legends and folklore past. "Thanks dad, I love it," says Nick a bit flabbergasted, hugging his father, while burying his muzzle into his side.

Hugging his son back, Roderick responds, "It goes without saying, that you are allowed to read the books in the mage section now," Younger eyes dart upwards. "That doesn't mean you are allowed access to my desk though," says Red. "Ann would have my fur, if I did that," he shudders, Nick can only giggle at that. "Speaking of special presents, she is going to make you something marvelous, you will have to wait though," he winks at the kit as he quips, "hope you aren't as impatient as you were today." The kit can only groan and roll his eyes at this.

Secretly Nick knows what mom was planning to make him, he had sneaked glances at her sketches. It would be a sturdy green vest with the house emblem, his very first clothing piece that would show what our little fox is part of.

Sadly he wouldn't get it anytime soon, a year had to go by first.

* * *

 

Letting out a sigh, I place another small branch on the unlit pile, it wasn't evening yet and the sun was still standing pretty high behind the trees, but the afternoon air seemed colder than usual. Maybe it was me letting lose that made me feel colder, now that the surging rage had long subsided and no longer feeling the warmth of doing my second round of deliveries. At least the carpenters were always happy with the fresh load of lumber, what remained of the tree at camp were the smaller branches, twigs and a few blocks of wood with some knots in them, most if laying against the big root tree. Looking over to where I had felled the other tree, I can see another one of the wonders of this place. The branch I had grafted onto the stump, had grown a few feet already. By tomorrow it would have almost grown back to full size. It is never a good idea to sleep near young tree here, let you wake up and find yourself several stories from the ground, you only make that mistake once.

Deciding this should be enough wood for the fire till the evening, I grab a short branch and hold my pebble in my other paw. Only a simple intent of ignite and burn flowing to the ends of the branch where upon it sticks, the resulting flame turns its source into nothing. No longer are the intents there, a short existence, but one which can have big consequences. I slowly put the lit branch into the center of the campfire, letting it feed on some dried leaves first, growing stronger, fiercer to take on the next hurdle, before long the fire sheds its warmth to rather comfy radiance. Most mammals would think that I would despise it and the like, because of everything the vermin did, but since you can't enchant it, it shows its always neutral facade. Was I to blame it for my grief, I would also blame the daybreaks, because of grandma's passing and even a certain stubborn bunny fae would see the folly of doing that.

Now sitting more comfortable and warmer, I grab the bakery box and open it up, smiling at the harmony of smells coming from the loaf, pie and jam. I already ate some earlier, when I was done cutting down the tree and when I was a lot calmer, can't have me go imagining blueberry jam being bittersweet slightly coagulated vermin blood... _I wonder if they go well together? Maybe I should try smearing some on them, before taking a bite...,_ a worthwhile experiment maybe, my tail slightly flicking at the idea, a less fun thought comes up, _What if it ruins both?_ I return my attention back to the nourishment at paw, there is no reason to dwell on stuff, that might not be even needed. Grabbing another slice of the sweet chestnut bread, smearing some equally wonderful blueberry jam with a claw onto the baked goodness. It certainly taste great being family to the Grays, now I had some tasty filling food for the next few days. My eyes dart down to the slice of pie, still deciding when I will eat it, this evening maybe.

While crunching on the small piece of heaven, I'm reminded of the plan that was slightly touched at the bakery. Setting up the old trade agreement again with the bunny fae was a big deal, quite a number of produce of the provinces are famous, because they are made with the almost magical nature variant of goods the faes produce, those differentiated a lot between each region and for over two hundred years the meadows has been lagging being in those. Ha..., lagging behind? More like non existing, the best fae produce are always in places where you need to be invited to and not getting noticed by them doesn't help at all lifting that problem.

There is however one fae that notices me, getting her to agree to a trade was another set of puzzles, on the one paw she wanted to do anything to get away from here and on the other she had been so sure of what her family told her was true to a certain degree, that making her accept the other possibilities was a rather slow progress. At times I would say, that she was downright childish naive and other times she seemed so conservative..., maybe that part had something to do with her being over two hundred years old and only being able to talk to her own kind, no wonder she looked bored so much of the time. Still I can't forget about that first time... and then we had the first time, how fun it was. No, no it was not. Our first meeting in the fur, was less than I had hoped for, okay, so maybe it was almost downright terrible, it could be even classified as a natural disaster. We hit several sore spots of each other and if I'm honest it wasn't what she had said that had hurt the most, but what she didn't say. I took a few years to get to a somewhat warm encounter and even then it took a few more before the idea popped up.

Still that was just one part of the whole ordeal, the old trade treaty needed a renewing and that is something the Oakhearts do. So loads, really loads of gold coin, so much that you wonder what they even use it for, not like anything in the province requires that much money..., except for their permits. Oh, don't get me started on how slow they are, when you do finally get absurd amount together, a mail sorting center run entirely by slots is faster by a landslide. Heck, the sloths don't even break a sweat doing it, now that I think about it, they can't.

With the snack gone to a better more cozy place, I grab one of the woodblocks with a knot and start carving a traditional moon festival figurine, but instead of a variant of the eight meadow light bearers, I decide to go for the more obscure, far less well known feawood one, which would consist of a crescent like moon entangled by the branches of a hallow tree, a cradle to the outlines of a young fae bunny, little paws hugging the knees, long ears clinging to the back to ward off the world just a bit longer and a plant bud near the base of one of them. The candle would be placed in the bowl that the crescent moon creates, filled with water as the stories of the real thing goes, an approximation to the dazzling display of a thousand shimmering pale blue green lights, twirling up from the surface and floating towards the night sky. Chips of wood flying into the campfire, as I start to carve out the rough contours of the young fae. _I wonder if she knows the place? Maybe I can make her take me to go see the flight,_ a wonderful thought of making a nice and unforgettable memory.

A repeatable offender of a scent makes my nostrils flare, I can hear the group walking towards me. _Guess I'm not the scariest thing out there_ , a rather calming thought for me, the biggest question still remains, _Who is the one messing with my cloth, who is the one pulling the vermin's strings the hardest?_ Looking up I see the four mammals approaching me. A wolf at the front, holding a posture that I can assume is to show its self proclaimed alpha position and I'm the one who dared to bite the higher up, a grin slowly appears at the satisfaction of knowing this. Close to the larger canine's side a boar walks, hooves clenched in hatred, an annoyed expression that he has to deal with the tail end of a now dying bloodline, he clearly doesn't agree with his parents on my rather still beating and running condition, because after all this time, why can't I just be six feet under? It isn't me that started this feud, but I will end it, his previous squeals and low courage are too different from his now slight dark smirk, my grin falls as I can guess where this is going. My eyes fall to the  donkey with a bag tied to his flank, what did they take with them, what kind of thing did they plan to spite me? The last one won't be fun, none of them were fun, but this one I'm slowly starting to dread. Not the big outline, no, I can already see were that is going, I set up enough bait for them to do it, just not the details they will use and the additions they have planned. Last but not least my eyes fall to the back of the vengeful mob, the hare that I have noticed a few times today, ears up as far as they can and a puffed out chest, together with that glint, I can guess he is going to do something petty. All of them wearing visible horrible purple colored scars, my personal stamp of demammalization, making them just a ragtag croup of vermin. _That reminds me, where is the...,_ the smell I was searching for comes from behind me, W _olfsbane!_

* * *

 

Air ruffles my upper body's auburn fur as I sprint on all fours towards my targets, a betraying calm painting the landscape as I pass fields, scent marks getting fresher each breath taken. From a red pawkerchief tied around my upper left arm a pulsing warmth stings it way throughout my entire body, adding a slow growing ferocious burn to my pulse. It doesn't take long to get them into my sights, the wolf must have smelled me as he turns around and tilts his head wondering if he sees what he thinks he sees.

He pulls the attention of the others before yelling back mockingly, "Hey savage, finally lost your coat in the wilderness have you? By the way you should run the other way, don't you remember what happened all those previous times?" I can see his toothy grin and claws covered in blood.

My limbs carry me forward, a growl is my response. All those previous times I had given them chances, but not this time, no, this was another set of fangs.

"Eh, Ramie, he isn't stopping," says the donkey with a slight tremble, "he is even speeding up, and he seems to be bearing his teeth, I haven't seen him this pissed off before." My low growl and furious look putting the group on edge.

The wolf rolls his eyes, "You can't be serious Corun Dum, that runt of a pelt doesn't..." I pounce the breath out of him with a strong leap, he hits the ground hard with the back of his head. While standing on the wolf I bite him in the arm, giving me a rush and him a sharp yip.

The bull tries to grab me by bending over, I slip through his legs. Biting one with a zeal, while tugging on his tail. Forcing the bull to stumble while grasping his wounded leg.

Jumping to the side snarling at my next target a boar who hadn't moved from his spot after seeing the tough and the muscle go down, terror in his eyes as he holds his arms in front of him to ward me off, "Stay back savage." I Ignore the command and take the offer at paw's length and bite down on one of his hoofs. The boar squeals loud as he drops to his knees.

Glaring at the duo that stood somewhat in the back of the group, apparently hugging each other. An otter and a female goat trembling while I make my way to them. They close their eyes and flinch when they feel my moist breath caressing their fur. I quickly bite their upper arms, with a bit more force than needed for just breaking the skin. A slight hiss leaving their snouts as I do this.

Sound of hooves heading my way, alert me to the donkey trying to get me in the back, I sidestep with slight crouch and see his hooves sail in the air to where I stood mere moments ago. I bounce up together with a still rhythmic pulse that I'm engrossing in, the burn having grown to that of an inferno. Biting hard on the underside of his unused arm, letting an ember flow from the inferno to his wound, like I did with the other vermin.

Smelling for my remaining prey, I notice the hare making a run for it. Sadly for the pest, he hasn't been much of a runner and I sprint and jump like a grounded flash fire, my fur standing up and twirling like flames dancing on top of a piece of lumber. He cries out when my blood soaked fangs tear into its right ear. I grab the vermin's right ankle firmly, and throw him hard at the boar, who is blowing on his badly wounded hoof, trying to make the burn go away. The boar goes down in a daze, while the hare cries out for its half ripped ear.

It hadn't taken more than two minutes to bite everyone of them, bringing these vermin to the ground, that they should return to.

I smell blood, ash, foul fluids and the non mistaken fear from these vermin, dragging my tongue slowly around my fangs as my grin continues to grow. This overly bittersweet taste can't be anything else but the blood of my prey, the hunger and the need keep battering away at my patience, my pulse roaring for it, "Not yet, close but not yet, one last chance they get," I whisper to no-one in particular, except the only sound leaving me is the low rumbled growl, seemingly permeating the soil carrying it to the ones that now bear my mark. My whiskers trembling at the air currents made by little crimson droplets falling from my jaw to the ground, swallowing drool for what I might do in the future.

My eyes seem to burn, floating about to keep all prey insight. I see them all, all these vermin bunched up in this one place accompanied by a terrified green eared otter and an even younger looking goat, all wearing fresh bite marks. A mocking thought crosses me, _They didn't think I would retaliate did they? They didn't think I would have it in me, why give me the moniker Savage, when you don't expect me to never act like one._

I drag a claw of my left paw across my blood matted snout, getting it covered in a fresh coat of iron red. I use it to smear a little cross on my forehead and chest. Then something like a voice nowhere near my own leaves me, filled with demand, leaking with fury that burns away any courage the vermin still had left.

"By my marks I vow." The two drawn crosses start the tingle, as the vermin's grips near their bite marks hardens. Faces showing sign of fear of what is to come, as they know they will carry it like the rest of them. A grunt like chuckle leaves my throat, it is much, so much worse, than they think it is. I can only hope they stop, but it would pleasure me if they didn't.

"That when wild scales tip." Not yet, but oh so soon, just one more. The vermin's' start to scream as the pain looks to be increasing. The otter and goat huddle together not really getting what is going on, I'll deal with them later.

"And drowns me in the title of old." The bites start to glow dimly, like an iron poke getting hot in a forge. A legend, a prophecy, lost in smudges of purple and yet I know and I promise.

"I will hunt you, find you, chase you down." Glows turning brighter, tears streaming down their cheeks, as screams begging me to stop fill the air. I promise to act, to protect the province I serve from the vermin that have roamed it for far too long.

"And show you." I stretch the same bloodied digit out towards them, the bodies of the vermin arching, as smoke releases from the wounds. A sizzle can be heard, like hot steel pressed under water.  I promise to judge, marking the vermin for everyone to see.

"The punishment of my prey." Predator or prey doesn't matter to be considered vermin, I don't lash out indiscriminately, I'm not that kind of savage. No, I'm far more dangerous, I plan and for the moment the vermin are playing their part splendidly. 

"The retribution of vermin." The stinging sensation ebbs away as the bodies slump to the ground, they are out cold in just second after they are called for what they are, never again will their names leave my lips. The bite marks are now cauterized, turned into thick furless purple scars, only clothing can cover that up now and that is something I wouldn't recommend doing. A proud grin spreads across, as I look at my handiwork. _Dad never knew about these kind of spells, and here I was, pulling them of like a natural,_ A single tear trickles down at the thought of him, making me glare back at my unconscious prey. It would be oh so easy to do now, but no not yet. I promise to be the fire to the vermin pyre and to satisfy my hunger, so it may go away. The inferno dies slowly out, as my more jovial demeanor returns.

My attention now shifts to the two still bleeding mammals, their fur jolts up at that. I chuckle, my dread and heavy tone having made place for and unnatural contrasting relax and comforting attitude, as I address them, "Now, Dawson Fringe Otterton and Jasmine Hollyhock Gazen, sorry that you had to see any of this." As I walk up to them, a slight panic tints their eyes making them slowly try to crawl away from me, not really working though. I sigh, understanding why they would clearly fear the savage mage. Or was it me saying their full names? I find that pretty doubtful, any proper province mage should know everybody. "I'm sorry for biting you two, but the vermin aren't allowed to know," I spit out the term vermin with endless disgust, or is it bottomless hunger, they don't really differ to me.

Putting my right paw into my pocket, while my left with the still bloody digit slowly moves to the bite mark of Dawson. He flinches when my paw draws near. "Relax, just healing those wounds, can't have you two bleeding all over the province," I smirk with a soft smile. The wound slowly closing, fur growing over and not leaving a mark, the otter keeps a flat line on his face though. I turn to the goat and repeat the intention. "You two are unusually quiet," I say with a raised eyebrow, as they keep staring like they don't know what they should do. I quip grinning like a fool, "Must be the face right? Still covered in blood and all." I raise my left and slowly use it to brush to fur on my snout, while my mind flips to hum a simple fur cleaning spell, feeling the stains on my paw and head degrading. "There that should do it," I answers still with a smile, looking back at the now standing duo.

Dawson finally speaks up, "Why did you heal us? After everything we did." He doesn't look as terrified anymore, just confused at me sparing the two of them.

 

I know what these vermin did, I saw most of it. Burned fields, burning goods and wares, stealing goods and food from the less unfortunate, attacking and harassing, well lion share was to just undermine my efforts to help the province, or to help my more idealistic plan to set things right. Luckily nomammal but me got badly hurt... till today. They had heard that Alisa Chemilla Wolfard, a timber wolf wore her new sky blue dress, made by yours truly for her sixteenth birthday. And when she had refused to hand it over so they could burn it, they jumped her, tore the dress to shreds, gagged her with a piece of it and burned the rest to ash. But no, that wasn't enough for these vermin, they held her down, while she was crying and then did the deed, one I still painfully remember. Dawson and Jasmine didn't participate in any of it besides the burning of the dress, they did however look into Alisa's eyes, saw her beg them to intervene. They just kept watching, the terror of the vermin's anger if they did nailing them to the soil, even when they knew this wasn't right. Dawson would probably bring medicine to her house and Jasmine would read her stories by her bedside, besides netting her money for a new dress.

And where was I? I had been invited by Ulf Waxwood Wolfard, also known to me as Mulfi, for a drink at the tavern near the province center. A long friend of our house and one of the few good guardsman our place still counted, Ulf wanted to repay my kindness of making his daughter a dress she always wanted. As being a good guy in the guard doesn't pay like it used to do, meaning he either would have to pass up on certain stuff, or ask one of the nine noble houses for aid. And a lot of them aren't what they used to be either. Depending on who of the commoners you asked, only three or four houses were trustworthy and deserved respect. That didn't mean the other houses had no good natured individuals, just that those were sadly overshadowed and pressured by their lesser peers.

When Ulf and I decided we should head off for the evening, he invited me over for dinner. We bid Easton Flatdam a beaver also known by his middle name Cashew and owner of the tavern farewell, Mulfi dressed in his blue tunic with black trousers and I wearing my long forest green coat with dark oak brown pants. It didn't take long to get near his home, using the winding path hidden between fields full of crops. Then it hit us, the smell of burned fibers and fur, the pheromones of arousal and panic, but most of all blood and other bodily fluids. We started to sprint and when we got a bit closer, Ulf started to cry out for Alisa. And as we got near it hit me, this was the vermin's doing and I stirred, another pebble on the scales, scales already dangerously tipping.

A soft weak sob could be heard, when we finally saw her. It was a mess and she was broken, her blue eyes just stared of into the distance, even after Ulf freed her snout she didn't respond. Multiple limbs had bended in unnatural ways under the weight of something much larger then her, signs of bruised and cracked ribs, multiple lacerations covered her torso and as my eyes wander lower, I stopped and sighed. It felt like all those years ago, only this time I could do something about it from the get go.

I told Ulf to go to their home and get help and advised him to set a teapot on the stove, sending one of his sons to get the town's doctor Conker and the midwife Tolmiea incase her trauma doesn't let the former near. As he ran off, I returned my attention to Alisa and started slowly treating her wounds. Closing cuts and gashes to stop the external bleeding. Mending bones to stop the hopefully biggest source of the internal ones, making it easier for her to breath and to make it less painful to move.  As I started trying to reform what was now a mangled and badly burned mess, she gasped.

As Alisa looked up at me, she started to sob uncontrollably, "Uncle Nick... the dress... I'm sorry." My heart ached at hearing her words. She started to tell what happened between heavy sobs and hiccups, she didn't deserve this not in a million years.

As the work on mending was done, at least on the part that I could do with my little pebble, burns were also just hard to heal in general even with magic, I putted a paw against her cheek and said, "Don't worry about that, I'm here, you are here." Slowly stroked her fur, her sobs lost a bit of the edge they had. "Dad is getting help, you are safe and you aren't alone," she calmed down further at having heard me saying that. I thought about what to do next and took out a bottle. "Here have some spring water." Alisa slowly took some sips, it made some color reappear on her gums. She stared at her white gray fur covered beneath her own blood and vermin taint. "Let us get you up, and I'll clean your fur for you, that okay?" I looked in her eyes with worry as I said this.

Alisa responded with a slow nod. I helped her up and even when she was much taller than me. _I wish, I was as tall as my dad was,_ internally frustrated at this one thought. I could easily support her after working as a woodcutter for seven years. She was still quite unsteady, blood loss and getting worked up the most likely causes. I started stroking her back slowly, then degraded the filth into the void and afterwards I handed her my coat. The rather baggy long coat, was a baggy short sleeved coat for her. Still it covered the most important parts and that's what matters at the moment. A soft, "Thank you," left her lips.

When Ulf returned with his wife Grania Ivy Wolfard, Alisa got hugged by her mother. Words of care spoken like only a mom can. I talked to Ulf about not leaving Alisa alone, just to make sure that she wouldn't start to panic, nor that they missed if her health deteriorated. I also handed him a small bag of dried linden blossoms and told him, "Set some tea with this, it will settle the nerves. You all could use it, though I wouldn't give it to Alisa till her blood pressure is somewhat higher. But if she were to get too upset give her one cup or a few sips." I then took out a large red handkerchief clearly containing something. My eyes take a glance at Alisa, when I state, "She needs something sweet and moist next to some fluids to help her with her blood loss, these are forest blueberries and she may keep the cloth, I got multiple of those, but you already knew that."

After Mulfi putted the stuff away in his bags, he rolls up his left sleeve, a somewhat worn out red handkerchief was tied to his dark gray fur. "I still wear it like the others, I'll make sure that she does to," he says with a soft smile, before a low growl starts to rise in him and said agitated, "It was them, wasn't it?" Of course he would get angry, now that he knew Alisa was somewhat safe.

I put a paw to his chest and quipped, "You got the wolf nose Mulfi, you tell me." And I quickly added, "Yes, it was them, but you aren't going to go after them, you know better." I saw him want to object, then Ulf huffed as he remembered.

Ulf looks at me a bit hesitant but also welcomed the idea and said with a whistle, "Oh sweetwood, so you going to go and do that?"

"Yes, yes I will, I'll comeback for my coat on another day," I said with a smile, looking over at the pair of female wolfs. My tone went dark, I was there again, sitting on the dirt in disbelief, arms wrapped around me. I looked back at Ulf, he flinches at the gaze I'm making. "Now to go catch me some vermin and mark them for a pyre of fire," fury seeped through my voice, as I rushed off on all fours in the direction the vermin had headed.

I heard Ulf mumble, "Wolfsbane," as his fur stood on end, I guessed nomammal gets used to that side of me.

 

"Short version, I know why you did it," I say with a chuckle. "Also both of your parents are more aware of it, than you think," my face turns serious as I say this, Dawson and Jasmine take on a slight panicked look and before the nannie goat can say something, I hold my paw to stop her. "You don't have to worry about them," as I say this, the otter opens his mouth, but I won't let him, "Oh sweetwood, will you two just let me finish talking?" I glare with my fur bristling a bit, I see them zip their mouths. I breathe deeply, pinching my nose bridge as I start, "Let me sum your two situations. You are a respected member of one of the noble houses, but note number one, the noble houses lost lot, if not all of their power to legally stand up to the vermin that plague the province, note number two, said vermin sent a group to your houses, demanding that you join them in their activities, or expect repercussions, note number three, you join and mostly can only watch till the deeds have been done, only afterwards you try to compensate, be it either with money, medical treatment, replacement goods or personal free work. Does that sound about right?" At the dumbfounded and guilty looks I can read on their faces, I can safely assume it is word for word what has been going on, which wasn't hard to figure out.

Jasmine asks with a tremble in her voice, "So our parents knew everything?" Her teary red eyes standing out quite well to her white fur, but seem to merge with her red dress.

I deadpan, "Of course they do, they aren't deaf or stupid. They have talked to a lot of the people the gang has visited, even before that, they wanted to know where you kept heading off to and it became even clearer when they started asking questions," I say this as I wonder how they could ever have kept it a secret, maybe they just wished to think this so they could feel free from disappointing their parents.

Dawson can only hold his head between his paws muttering something along the line of multiple oh sweetwood. Yup, looks like the maybe was right. _He kind of looks terribly adorable with that formal white vest on his brown fur,_ I shake my head at the thought, _Mind out of the gutter Nick, kid needs your support._

Looking at him I can only put a paw on his shoulder and continue, "Dawson, they aren't mad at you. Heck, they wish they could help you out all of this, but like it was already stated the nobles can almost do next to nothing and they only get punished even more if they tried to stop the vermin."

I think about some of the other noble houses, entire tittles, lands and properties stripped away and given to vermin outsiders. Rage starts to edge on my arm, but it isn't the time and I must remember what mom said, "Give a chance, just like you want one and give one more to show the way." But vermin don't listen and, "Don't let them see that they get to you." Oh sweetwood, I want to show it oh so badly. _Not yet and not here, let them make their main problem bigger,_ all these thoughts not taking more than mere seconds to blow past, my attention firmly back at the otter right in front of me.

He looks up at me and starts to sob, "That doesn't make it better. Wolfsbane!" he practically yells, self hatred edging his words, "It makes it worse for hiding it from them, or at least thinking we could do that."

"You are a better mammal, than you think, Dawson," he gives me a refuting look as I state it calmly, "I mean it, you care for others wellbeing, I even know that you want to study under that boring Conker, with your knowledge about medicine you have a head start and the reason why? You want be able to treat people even if they can't offer anything." And I quip with a fake surprise, "And you don't even drink any alcohol, talk about some strong principles." He chuckles slightly at that.

I look at Jasmine, forming slight smile saying, "Oh, don't think that I forgot about you, Jas." She can't help but flinch a bit, I tenderly grab her hoof, "Hey, it's okay, I just wanted to say that I love the stories you write, you got a real knack for it for someone your age." A blush appears on her face, making me grin, speaking in a lofty voice, "I know my books you know, my house could rival your library for the amount of them." And I encourage with a wink, "You can write the adventures of how the vermin go away." They look surprised at hearing me announce the good news.

"Well I got plans, not much more they can take from me, reason why I was here in the first place," I scratch my neck, as the rather heavy facts leave my throat. After a few seconds, I snap my fingers and say, "Now back to what I wanted to do, I got some red pawkerchiefs for you two," I pull out two of them and hand them over, "You should tie those around or near the place I bit you, again sorry about that."

Jasmine looks with wonder at the red cloth piece, "Did you enchant them?" Excitement filling her voice, a thing to write about, I can relate.

"Yes, yes I did," and I state proudly, "not just one enchantment either, spell cloth at its finest, but only two really matter to you two." I hold up one digit. "It makes the vermin not search for your bite mark, makes them also not think about it, so to them I didn't spare you of any punishment, it's a redirection kind of thing." Dawson and Jasmine smile at this, while they start tying them and a second digit goes up. "It lets you notice other mammals wearing them, don't be surprised when you go into town and see heaps of them, nor when you see your parents."

Dawson looks baffled, like someone just told him to get his eyes checked, "Wait, and we never noticed? How long have you been doing this?"

I rub my neck, stating the answer sheepishly, "Oh sweetwood, for quite some time, fifteen years maybe..., you never noticed because there are multiple redirections going on and yes I helped a lot of mammals throughout the years, I might not have a house, but I still am a member of the blessed bloodline of this province."

The two of them stare at the still floored pests, I can see where the question will be going. "Don't mind the vermin, they will get up in a daze, slander homewards and not remember much how they got there," I say with an indifferent voice, not minding at all if they run into some posts and ditches along the way.

"Now you two go scamper home, I do think you can excuse yourselves from further vermin activities, they will believe that you are too hurt to go out," I say with a grin, as I see them snicker and I quip, "Yup a real mage version of a doctor's note, no bites asked." They burst out laughing.

When the youngsters were about to leave I remembered Alisa. With all the pleasantries I had almost forgotten, shouting after them, "Oh, do visit Alisa to give her your support and Dawson could you send Conker over if he hasn't left yet, I treated her wounds, but just to make sure!"

"We will, Mr. Wilde," they say in tandem, a sense of light firmly back in their eyes. I smile at that and hearing my proper surname.

And as they swiftly left, I went on towards my camp, having lost my coat, my free dinner and my snack. "Back to gathering I guess," I mumble, a yawn leaves my lips. I wish I had a better foci already, spells this big make me always worn out after I calm down. _Maybe I could even heal...,_ not finishing the thought as I just sigh at the wishful thinking.

* * *

 

A thick pair of hooves hold me down, pinned to the ground I see the satisfied grin of the bull, how could he sneak up on me like this, I should have heard him coming from miles away. Looking back at his footing, I can see him wearing a peculiar forged set of white metal inlaid bar shoes. _Enchanted..., how did he get those, did something big go down to the mountain province and was this linked to the Winterran's loss of contact?_ all questions sprouting up between slight snow covered grounds, those can wait for another time, as I am still being harassed at the moment. Trying to lift my snout, sporting a teasing toothy grin I say, "Oh, hello vermin, wanting to go for seconds are we? I can make it more symmetrical if you like." My soft snicker turns into a pained groan as the bull tightens his hold on my back, if he goes further, my fur will get ripped off.

"Shut up, savage!" yells the boar, with a displeased frown at hearing their own pesky moniker, he can dish it out, but can't take it, I chuckle at the roof made out of glass and get a kick in the side as a reward. He squats besides me, showing a sneer void of good humor as the pest speaks, "No dear savage, let us orchestrate this for you, we will only take what we need, but no worries we will give you plenty in return and you will have centuries to think about what you couldn't do, while serving as a mute," says the boar, leering with chuckle as he sees my eyes widen at what he just said.

Color me surprised, baffled, stun founded, flabbergasted, whatever you may call it. _How did they get to know that exactly?_ there ends my astonishment though, the hare probably saw me speaking to her like planned, because if they knew my true backup, they wouldn't go along with this, how about the naked truth and see them fail taking me serious, oh sweetwood, how much they will regret it, a toothy grin spreads as I state menacingly, "I'll be blunt for you pests, if you go through with this, you won't like how I will end it and I will make it personal." I scream out in pain as the bull pulls hard on my tail, my mind reels, _Does he want to pull my spine out or something._ The stinging itch already slowly building up again throughout my body, wolfsbane how can a fox enjoy a nice afternoon with vermin around.

Looking passed the tears, I can see them exchanging baleful glances, the hare starts to ransack trough the pile of tools, the vermin's eyes fall upon my axe and I can already see were this is going. It's paw wraps around the handle, grunting a bit as the smaller pest stumbles and clumsily hands over my axe to my pride and joy abuser, the bull swings the axe at my tail he still holds in his grasp, while one of his shoed hooves still cuts into my back. The result a loud snap and a still attached tail, they all wear dumbfounded expression and the bull most of all, as he stares at the broken handle in his hooves, a soft, "Uh?" is muttered.

Before he can grab another tool to have another go, I speak up, "The result won't change, my tools can't be used to hurt other mammals, be it direct or other-wise," my voice sounds screechy with the amount of strain the overgrown vermin keeps putting on my tail. The bull just snorts at my explanation gesturing to the hare to hand another one, my favorite carving tool this time, oh and the long eared prey decides to throw my carving into the campfire how wonderful. "Hey, stop that, you are a really a petty pest," I say it rather annoyed by the hares actions already and he doesn't seem to be done yet, as he inches toward the bakery box. The urge is already fanned to an extreme degree, these pest just keep pulling the wrong threads. Hearing another snap and a huff from above me, I mutter agitatedly, "And you my overgrown prey, you can keep trying, it won't work." Earning me yet again a forceful tug on the tail, finally letting go of my painfully stretched tail, at least this vermin has stopped trying to make a scarf out of it by dismemberment, nevertheless we are going to have a very personal talk about spines and tails later. The breaking of glass pulls my attention back as I see the jam jar laying smashed in the fire, the bread follows soon and then the hare smashes the box together, ruining my slice of blueberry pie. "There is a special place in hell for your ilk," growling it with assurance to put my prey in the position of being toyed with like the love made food he just wasted, the hare only shrugs at that as he steps towards my bags.

The wolf punches my snout and snarls, "Shut up, you mutt." The punch stings, wringing in pain as a jolt runs from my now battered nose to between my eyes, dazing me in an induced migraine. I can feel something trickling inside my snout, the sent indicating that I'm bleeding slightly. The vermin turns toward the donkey, "I swear Corun Dum, this savage just shows, the smaller they are, the louder and annoying their whining is and that says me something with a brother like mine, an insult to the Tunro name." I growl forewarning at this pest that calls himself a wolf, yet it goes on, "And you are a prime example of a runt and for festivities sake we got you a special present." He snaps his fingers at the donkey, who starts to approach the campfire.

The donkey starts unpacking something, by the shape of it and the way it moves, it could be a bundle of paper, once it is unpacked and hold above the fire, I can see the words and text. My fury was pulsing loudly through my ears, only hearing the words, "Picked up," and "agreement." My higher road plan dropped into the fire, burning into just blackened shriveled soot. I want to scream out, that they are just a bunch of show offs, vermin who just can't see past the red cloth, but my mind blanks out when I see it hold something else above the orange hunger, my own warmth plummeting fast.

"I see that you recognize it," says the boar with a scheming smirk, the pest points to the wolf as it goes on, "Ramie ran into your scent at the library, what a surprise it turned out to be and quite informative." The wolf shows of a satisfied smile at obtaining one of the few remaining things I still own from my kithood. _Of course they got the information about fae punishments from that,_ goes my mind as I desperately try to wrestle from underneath the heavy hoof. A voice sounds uninterested, "We no longer have any use for it, so..." A gesture with the unmarked hoof and the donkey lets it go.

Tears stream from my eyes, it didn't even have its cover anymore, but the writing on the first page was enough to be sure, as flames swiftly started to tear into the loving written words, "For my son's eight birthday, my special little pebble." Soon bits and pieces of pictures and phrases that I read and looked upon more than anyone ever would need to know it inside out, burned away into an entropic heap of stolen fondness. The tears and growl stop, the storm of flames was now a frozen razor sharp spiked field, I feel numb, were the infuriating rage would go for a savage style of attacks, the cold makes me just want to pierce till they are no more, no joy from this, no hunger to satisfy, just downright disdain, since they just got to a new low and I'm pretty sure there is nothing lower, since they are nothing... vermin are nothing and nothing shouldn't be in this world.

I feel a paw rummaging around in my pockets, the paw touches my foci and after a few touches takes it out, the attached wolf drops my little pebble onto the trampled grass, when my eyes fix their gaze on the vermin. It's fur standing upright, tail and ears positioned to show clear signs of fear, I can almost read a stumbling squirm of a rejected plead, as a sharp thought pierces through, _Nothing gets no more chances._ The paw hesitates picking up the purple pebble, before grabbing it quickly the vermin wolf quickly scampers away. These prey seem to notice the deadly slippery slope, one nothing stands on, there is one however too fixed in its own point of view, a certain boar. The  vermin are saying they should just get to the main part, wanting to leave me behind to be punished for something I didn't do, a repetitive injustice.

A vermin boar takes lit log from the campfire and steps towards the root tree, turning around before saying with a mocking tone, "You look a bit cold savage, let me help change that," saying it as the log gets thrown onto the heap of branches next to the tree, looking with a wrinkled glee smile, saying, "Thanks for providing the fire, now we will let you rest for a bit, enjoy your servitude for as long as it lasts" A hard hit from the vermin holding me, makes my consciousness fade, sounds of stuff being thrown, paws and hooves scurrying about in a hurry, smell of burning linden being the last thing I register, the warmth of the fire doesn't reach me, as the growing cold just keeps stretching out creeping over everything there is. Scales off set so much, that the whole thing was on the side, too many second chances impaired its use, winter had come and it would be ruthless and dismissive.

* * *

 

Everything was black, lost in an abyss created by my senses not wanting me to accept what had just happened. I struggle to get past the complete numbness that embraces me, trying to focus one sense at a time and even with all my will I feel just a sip return to me.

I smell something, my nose tingles as I register that it is very strong sent of smoke, fire must have been raging nearby, breathing in the mixture of fumes and air. My insides tell me by the warmth that it might still be smoldering, flames hidden encompassed by whatever had burned. What is this smell though? My mind races at the tint of a something familiar, wood of course, might even been Linden by the odor of it, I remember it from burning the excess branches and clippings from the giant tree in our garden to smoke some, _meat...,_ my blood runs cold at that thought, I recognize the smell combination now, a maturing fruit, burned paper, burned fabric, singed fur, burned meat and an... an easing sent of recognizable pine like..., I trial off not wanting to go further on this sense.

I feel my claws hurting, looking down I see that I'm kneeling with my paws on the ground, dirt clinging to the underside of my short claws, trails of claw marks stretching forward to the edge of a remains left behind in a fire. My favorite book laying down not too far from me, wonder why I left it to collect dirt to crawl to something that was set ablaze. I try to grab my book, but two strong loving  slender arms hold me in a comforting hug. A kind of wetness triples on top of my head, looking up I see my mother's slender face crying with her eyes closed, ears flat on the back of her head and a tail draped around me, pain clearly showing trough her sobs that shake me with her. _What has my mom in this state of distress? Why was there a fire? I want to know, I need to know,_ questions and actions rising up, even if I'm scared of what am looking at.

 My eyes wander to where the fire must have razed and already regret it, tears start to flow as a silent whimper sets in. In front of me are the remains of pyre, in the center of it a clear charred and coaled big Linden branch. Chained to it the remains of adult fox, some part of what used to be green coat was now singed, but still somewhat intact clinging to burned away fur and skin. The tail was just utterly destroyed, where once was a soft brush to annoy your nose with, or something to hold on to for support, was now only blackened skin clinging to the tailbones left to see. Limbs and torso didn't fare better, on some places skin and flesh had charred off showing blackened bone, even showing some of the fractures. My breath gets stuck in my throat, as I gaze at the head of the burned fox, its muzzle in a pose of an eternal painful scream, most of the jaw line showing bone and fangs, like a savage wanting to escape its unjust fate. Looking further up to where the eyes would be, a burned and ruined usually caring right eye stares off into space, while the other had burst open spilling its content over the left side of his face.

I stiffen, when I admit that it's him, I look down on my chest and see that something sticky is attached to my clothing. I start to whine, as I remember his final moments, how they murdered my dad, how they forced mom and I to keep looking, as our big red rock got beaten, broken and burned alive, knowing that they weren't done with us, all for something he didn't do.

 

Dad was trying to his best effort to put on a strong front for us, he could barely speak already, after they poured a mixture of something boiling hot down his throat. He was being beaten repeatable with an iron bar, I could hear bones crack under the barrage of blows and when he couldn't stand anymore they dragged him like a sack of filth to the pyre, crafted out some of the books from our library and the very tree that stood in our garden. A tree were I had made so many good memories, was now used to create the worst one of my life. Chained and battered dad looked at us with tears in his eyes and a sincere and loving smile, one telling us without the need of a voice, "I will always love you, my sweetheart, my little pebble." Mom started to tear up and I? I didn't know what to do, I just stared at him clutching my book, I was confused, baffled and blindsided.

The wood got lit, the fire started to spread. Mom desperately asked the guards to not go through with this, to help dad, but the tiger guard backhanded mom to the ground and snarled, "Wolfsbane, It's his own fault you pelt, you can never trust a thieving fox mage." _Lies..., why all the lies?_ The same guard grabbed mom's head and yanked her to keep looking at the pyre. "Got to make sure you don't miss a thing of this sweet retribution," he said in a glee tone.

Dad tried to not scream in pain, as the flames and heat started to eat away at him, all while trying to keep a calming gaze with his pine green eyes. That didn't last long, as soon his screams filled the air, with as background the sound of blazing flames and cracks of moist wood. I tried to get to dad, but was held down by a horse, before I could get near the edge. "We can't have you dying now can we, we wouldn't want to be cursed," he says, while I scratched the ground trying to get to dad. Why would they get cursed when I die, but not when dad does? _It doesn't make sense..._ "Though if you want to get disfigured by flames be my guest," the horse let go smirking with seemingly a plan to help me a little with just that, but mom rushed in to hug me before he could go through with it. The horse snorted and backed away, "Seems like the savage is gone already." Dad had stopped screaming, while the horse had held me down and now looking up, his snout was stuck in a howl. _Why didn't anyone help? Why didn't the wolf guards attend, dad was innocent, right? Why did the fae not intervene and help dad, weren't we fae blessed? Why didn't the king command this to stop, weren't we nobles? Why wasn't anyone but them here, dad helped everyone and was loved by everyone, right?_ question upon question, disbelief followed by denial.

 Green distorted eyes looked our way, a look holding fury and hunger like the savages of old. And then the left eye burst open exposing the grayish black ooze to his cheek and plunging a piece onto my chest right on top of my heart. At that moment I froze and the mentioned abyss of before dragged me in.

 

I hear the guards cheering that dad is no more. "I can't believe he is gone, finally can get those commoners to shut up," one says roaring with laughter. I look around and see that it was one of the boar guards. _Because now they have one less noble fighting for their side,_ I reason. Something is stirring in my emotions, sadness and disbelief are hanging at the front, though a darker one sends pulses from its crawling place at the back.

The horse is next, "Wish he screamed a bit longer, at least it was a special treat to remember." He looks at us, knowing full well that mom and I hear every word they say, we don't matter not to them, we might be even the cause for these poor tasteless jests, just them wanting to get a rise out of us and it's working. I'm getting agitated, as my tears start turning into a low growl.

Mom notices this and whispers with a worried voice, "Don't let them see that they get to you, don't let them paint your heart." My low growl dies, as I return the hug, putting my snout against her neck and slowly breathing in her sent, hoping I can single out on just that. But it doesn't help for what comes next.

"I wouldn't have guessed for a worthless fox mage to smell so good, when charred and baked to a crisp," says the tiger drooling a bit, even going so far, as to tear a limb of dads corps. Fabric giving way, it's gifted resistance no longer there. Charred remains of wood making noises as the weight gets sifted. With a knapping sound the shoulder gives way and the brute holds the ill gained arm of dad with a glee look in our direction, before crunching on it. The prey guards cringe at this, while the others just look at him waiting for him to state his opinion. Mom goes into shock at the perverted treatment of dad's corps. And I? I was painted in a dark shade of violet.

_This... this is just too much, I... I can't accept this, I won't accept this!_ I felt something come over me, an urge, a need, a hunger, a fury and above all, a taste for these vermin. _Blood will flow and I will be their bane!_

It had taken root in my heart, while the scales were set in my mind. Rain started to fall, the grizzly Autumn storms had rolled in.

* * *

 

_I should have known,_ I state simply. _I should have known better, than to think vermin would learn to reflect on their every misdeed, because nothing doesn't change,_ a cold and numbing truth that I have known, just now in a new way, that makes sense.

I take on a more warm expression, neither for them nor for myself, why should I care? No, the reason is out of shear habit and reflex. Around me stand three canine wood guards, all of them have plant leaves growing from their backs, bark covering certain parts of their bodies, metal running lines through barked pieces and what seems to be a singular transparent marble imbedded into their foreheads. Two look like eight feet tall wolfs, one white and one black standing next to each other, wearing postures of alertness, but also servitude to the fae nearby. The third one looks like an oversized fennec fox somewhat shorter than the same fae and probably a bit taller than my dad was, this peculiar wood guard stands there like he is wasting his time and would rather return to what he was doing before, you could almost smell his disgruntling annoyance.

The fae bunny thumps her foot impatiently, arms crossed over her orange maple leaf dress, as her violet eyes stare down, demanding an answer to the havoc that took place here, "What in Wolfbane's name happened here? Even Finnick doesn't cause such a big mess." The long eared wood guard just lets out a humph, while rolling his brown eyes.

Wearing a small smile, I quip, "Hey Carrots, care to believe me, when I say, that I didn't expect vermin to make such a mess?" I didn't know for sure that they would throw everything not worn by me into a fire, neither did I expect the fire to spread so much, one of the wood guards probably lifted me up and away from the blaze, otherwise a very big branch might have done a number on me, next to me being burned alive of course.

The fae bunny raises an eyebrow, before saying displeased, "Can't you be serious, Savage." She gestures at the still smoking remains of several trees, before she continues with hurt in her eyes, "I have known you for what, seven years now? But at the moment you just feel off and though I know you wouldn't just set the forest on fire, I know you are hiding something and my suspicions tell me you played a big role in it."

I sigh internally thinking, _Blunt and sharp it is then, doesn't matter if she knows this part._ "Okay, Judith Laverne Hopps," I say piercing, with the fake smile gone, still not directly looking at her as the coldness back onto the surface, I can already see her face go from angry to confused and not much after that shift into nervous bite of the lip, with her ears lowered. "I started my campfire with the use of magic, the vermin came and used the fire from it against my recommendation and warning on the pile of wood next to the now burned down root tree," while I say this my eyes connect with hers and I can see a tiny flinch, I give a toothy grin as I continue, "You got good instincts fae bunny, I did bait them into setting fire to forest using my campfire, be it with the large amount of wood placed right next to it and me practically living near it, besides them spying on our last meeting, that wasn't really planned."

Carrots asks for reassurance, "What was the trade agreement for, when you wanted them to set fire to a root tree?" She clearly wonders if I just deceived her on that part, no, no I did not.

Trying to make her understand, I say, "Sweetwood Judy, no, the trade agreement was my original plan and I had hoped that the reassurance would never come into play, so the bait was more precaution, sadly turned out it was needed." Seeing Carrots mouth open for an obvious question I add, "The reassurance was me getting pulled through a fae judgment of course and I also know you might be able to use the outcome." The last part makes Judy flinch a second time, a slight sense of regret tints her eyes. "Let just say, that we hustled each other," words leaving my lips, intended as a cold compress, I see her give a small nod, yet it still remains clear that she is unnerved by me stating my want to be judged, but who says you can't change a punishment into a blessing.

It is going to be a long evening and yet looking at the campfire, I am reminded of everything set ready for a change, no longer can vermin stop it and no longer will I shy away from it. I'm just holding my breath till the moment, as the air is gone now and the water is freezing.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh sweetwood and wolfsbane, looks like Nick went icy, Judy you might want to grab an ice pick..., you probably won't listen to anything I say, oh well. Don't go telling me that I didn't warn you about running into a certain red clothed pitfall somewhere, not that there is any kind of sharp pointed stick pitfall anywhere.
> 
> And with that comment I wrap up the first chapter. Wow, it ended up being a long one, when I started writing this, I only had one page full of actions that should take place. I was a tad worried to not get close to 10k words, turns out I shouldn't have worried at all, call me a chatter box or something. Pretty sure fleshing out this chapter, helped me plan out this story in the long run, as I was pretty unsure on how I was going to end it. If everything pans out, the story will end up being at least eight chapters long, probably more. Next chapter will be a mostly Judy based, including a revisit of the natural disaster of a first encounter. Ah yeah, if you wonder about the ages Nick is almost 32 and Judy is 240 ish, she is also two feet taller than Nick, yeah, yeah laugh it up, Nick is shorter than two character who normally tend to be way shorter. But if you know me, you would know what I love to do. 
> 
> A slight extra information on magic in this world, the two big types are state defining magic and path defining magic, I'm actually proud for figuring out the magic laws I wanted to use in my own fantasy world. Warding and sealing fall under state, while healing and vows fall under path, they all have a special characteristic it is up to you to find them. With the major weakness I stated in this chapter already multiple times, so don't go expecting fireballs to be thrown around, nor lightning, the process of setting up connection and enchantments is also in my author opinion pretty slow, both of these things I use to establish a view on magic being an aiding tool, more than a main tool of battle. The only pretty fast long range 'magic' you might see are enchanted bows and crossbows, but in my opinion they will be something only blessed mammals and fae can use and I'm not sure if I want to pull the design I have on magical firearms into this story, it would ruin the theme too much for me, besides it being illegal to create an enchanted weapon that can kill another mammal.
> 
> Also I put some fun research into picking the middle names for everyone, so if you want you can look stuff up, be mindful that I split some names up into parts. Maybe I should put in an interactive Codex chapter explaining the reasons for every name, holding information about the AU setting and important objects and spells, segments having a completion mark if everything is revealed and if enough people point out in the right direction, I would add it to the Codex. This is just a suggestion though.
> 
> p.s. Judy isn't demeaning Nick in the end part with her calling him Savage, observe the use of a capital letter, as used for a name, my clues can be very simple at times.  
> When I make Nick use a instead the, it instead of he/she/name, think of it as depersonalization going on in Nick's mind, so Nick already saw them as lesser mammals, but when Nick went from there to seeing them as nothing, I kind of draw a blank and went with absurd manner of telling and trying to refer to them in indirect ways, that doesn't always work, ack my brain.


End file.
